No Way Back
by abc79-de
Summary: Rory Gilmore gets tangled up in the other side of politics, but is she prepared to tangle with all it entails? Not if Tristan Dugrey has anything to say about it. Trory. Complete.
1. Meet The Candidate

Story Title: No Way Back

Chapter Title: Meet the Candidate

Description: Rory Gilmore gets tangled up in the other side of politics, but is she prepared to tangle with all it entails? Not if Tristan Dugrey has anything to say about it.

Rating: T (for now)

Rory Gilmore grabbed the bowl of popcorn off the kitchen counter and tucked a can of soda under her arm as she hustled to answer her ringing phone. It was Saturday night, and she was expecting the incoming call but had gotten home much later than normal and had been rushing around to get ready to relax for her standing bull session.

She hastily pressed the talk button. "Hey."

"Four rings? I think that's the precursor to being screened."

"Did you ever think that my delay had nothing to do with you, but rather involved some sort of issue on my end?"

"Things occur in life that aren't directly related to me?" Lorelai Gilmore teased her daughter. "I'm not sure how to react to this information. I may have to order another pizza."

"You have pizza? Man, that sounds so much better than popcorn," Rory frowned at the bowl she'd nestled into her lap after covering her legs with a fleece throw and snuggling down on her couch. She was in desperate need of a shopping trip to replenish supplies and hadn't had time to stop by to get take out in her rush to get home. Her home was currently an apartment, which was impossibly small due to the high rent prices of New York and her less than modest income. Thankfully what she lacked in space she made up for in comfort, as her rich shopaholic grandmother saw fit to make sure it was well stocked and decorated. Her couch was just as comfortable as her bed, and she would have probably fainted upon seeing the price tag of either.

"Popcorn? Do I need to come down there? Are you wasting away to nothing? Popcorn is not a proper dinner."

"But pepperoni is so nourishing?" Rory tossed back, not sure why she was defending her lack of options.

"Guh. You sound like Luke. But that's not possible, because he's working late and has no idea that I'm clogging my arteries and watching _Glee_."

"He might know about _Glee_ if he understood how to use your DVR to check your recordings, especially since you never delete anything until the hard drive is so full you can't record anything new. And I'm willing to bet he's aware you're eating food he hates. You've been on a first-name basis with all the food delivery people in town for many, many years. And Joe sends you a Christmas card every year."

"Hey, good tips only go so far. You have to build relationships if you want consistently hot pizza delivered. And I have a theory that Luke would actually love _Glee_ if he gave it a chance," Lorelai informed her only child.

"Yes, but in order for him to give it a chance, you'd have to duct tape him to the couch, gag him, and tape his eyes open. I think that falls under the realm of abuse," Rory said as she grabbed her remote and began turning on the appropriate devices.

"Stupid laws. So, were you on the other line or fighting off an intruder with that stun gun Grandma got you for your birthday?" Lorelai probed.

"What?" she asked, tossing some popcorn into her mouth.

"It took you four rings to answer. That's an eternity when your apartment is the size of a shoebox. Unless you, she who has a place for everything and everything in its place, lost her phone, I figured you might have been on the phone with someone else."

"Nope," Rory answered succinctly. She knew exactly where this was going. Her mother had never been able to hold back her opinions for too long, and Rory had let something slip during her last trip home that she was sure Lorelai had many, many opinions of, all of the negative variety.

"Have you had any interesting phone calls lately?" Lorelai asked in her knowing mom tone.

"I haven't spoken to him since I told you about it," Rory sighed as she selected the latest episode on her DVR, but didn't press play.

"But you are still in contact with him?" she pressed.

Rory sighed again heavily. Clearly _Glee_ was on hold. "I spoke with him about three weeks ago. He didn't send his regards, I wonder why?"

"Hey, I have no problem with him. I do think that it's weird, what you two are doing," Lorelai responded honestly.

"Mom," Rory began with a tone that pleaded for her to drop that particular conversation. They were supposed to be mocking _Glee_ and decompressing after their respectively busy work weeks, not delving into Rory's slightly unorthodox romantic interludes with her ex.

"I just don't get it. You said it all started when you ran into each other. Have you seen a lot of him?"

Rory bit her lip. "Just the once, about six months ago. We aren't pushing the whole in-person angle, and besides, he's been busy and so have I."

"But not too busy for phone sex," Lorelai clarified, with a clear tone of distaste.

"Mom!"

"I'm sorry, sexting. But still, it requires a phone, so technically," Lorelai continued.

"Okay, enough. We're supposed to be watching _Glee_, not discussing how and why I choose to keep in contact with Logan."

"Do you want to get back together with him?" Lorelai asked, technically dropping the issue of sex, but not the line of questioning into her daughter's love life.

"I told you, we're not getting back together. We just," she searched for a word to make what they were doing seem as normal and casual as it felt to her. "It's just two old friends reminiscing a little."

"Rory, you do not reminisce with a man who proposed to you. You might think that having a few brief sexual encounters with Logan is no big deal," she began.

"Because it isn't a big deal," Rory protested.

"I've been in similar situations," she urged. "Granted, a lot less technology was involved, but I've had random hookups with men from my past, thinking that it was just harmless fun, but someone always gets hurt. I just think it's a bad idea. That's my two cents. You never took my advice when it came to Logan in the past, I know, and you have no obligation to now, but it makes me feel better to at least pretend you're listening."

Rory rifled her fingers through the popped kernels. "It doesn't mean anything, because nothing has changed. He's happy in California, and I have my job here in New York. I have no plans to leave, not for anything. In fact, that's why I was running late tonight."

"So, you admit that you were tardy in answering my call?"

Rory smiled. "I'm so sorry you had to wait so long to hear my voice. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Yes. So, you were late because of work?"

"Oh. No. I was actually having coffee with a friend of Grandpa's."

"Why?" Lorelai questioned warily.

"What do you mean, why?"

"I mean, why were you having coffee with a friend of Grandpa's?"

"Because he was in town and Grandpa told him that next time he made it to the city he should look me up, and he did, so I had coffee with him."

"Did he hit on you?"

"No! We had coffee. Not every man Grandma and Grandpa introduce me to is a set up."

"No, but ninety-five percent of them are."

Rory shrugged. She had her there. "Well, this guy is your age. So maybe you should be worrying that Grandpa will suggest he call you when he's back in Hartford."

"I'm involved. Luke has lived here for many, many moons now."

"When has that ever stopped Grandma from wanting to set you up with other men?"

"Would Grandma even approve of this man? She doesn't like all of Dad's friends and acquaintances. What does this man do?"

Rory tossed some more kernels in her mouth. "He's a politician."

"Yech," Lorelai groused. "The only thing worse than politicians are lawyers."

"I'm not sure you and Grandma are biologically related," Rory mused.

"Yeah, we are. I took a strand of her hair from her brush once and sent it out for one of those home DNA tests."

"Mom!"

"What? Come on, it is hard to believe we're related by blood at times. You just said it yourself!"

"You really thought that you were adopted and they just never told you?"

"No, but I held out hope for many, many years that I had been switched at birth. Alas, it wasn't true."

"You really should have your own reality show."

"I don't think Luke would allow cameras in here. But I am thinking of sending an audition tape to _Glee_."

"You let me know how that goes."

"Wait. Weren't we talking about something else?"

"Other than your plans to invade primetime television? Yes. We were discussing my having coffee with the politician friend of Grandpa's," Rory retrieved the information from the tangent they'd taken.

"Yes, right! So, you had coffee with a corrupt weasel, and?" Lorelai asked, feigning interest.

"He wasn't corrupt or weasel-y. He was actually very nice and sincere. We talked for a long time, and he offered me a job."

"He offered you a job? What job?" Lorelai asked, sitting up and taking a genuine concern at that turn in the conversation.

"It doesn't matter. I told him I was happy where I was. Because I am. I'm living the dream. Paying my dues as a journalist."

"Says the woman who complains about the grunt work she is still doing in order to pay said dues, even though she's the best writer her editor has and he hasn't even so much as offered a raise for saving his ass on a number of occasions?"

"What do you do, write down everything I ever tell you?" Rory asked.

"I'm your mother. I have an vested interest in you and tend to pay attention when you tell me things. Even when you tell me things that make me want to plug my ears and sing over you."

"I'm sorry I mentioned Logan to you. I knew it was a mistake."

"Forget Logan. What job did Mr. Politico offer you?"

"He has a real name," Rory laughed. "It's Jack Kent."

Lorelai frowned as she made the connection. "The Jack Kent?"

"Yep."

"I voted for him. He's so charming and smart. He almost reminds me of JFK Jr., except with political aspirations and without the legacy of Camelot. And he offered you a job?"

"Yes. As a speech writer for his upcoming campaign."

"He can't possibly be worried about losing his seat."

"Well, since he's running for Governor of Connecticut instead of his district House seat, he's more concerned that you might think. Apparently the Republicans have a strong candidate and with the current economy he thinks it's going to be a tight race."

"And he wants you to work on his campaign, as one of his writers?"

"Actually, he offered me head campaign writer. I'd actually be in charge of all his speeches and most of the communication that revolves around his getting into office."

"Did he mention salary?"

"No, because I told him that even though I was flattered, I was a journalist, not a political activist."

"But you've spent your career writing about politics. You'd be perfect."

"That's what he said. In fact, he made me promise to come to his headquarters tomorrow and meet with him and his campaign manager, to hear the full details before I officially decline."

"So, you're coming to Hartford tomorrow?"

"Well, it was either that or spend the day in meetings with my editor, all focusing on ways for me to do my job with fewer resources," she blew out some air. "I told him I'd come, because I figured I could call in sick, take a personal day, meet with him for a half an hour, and then come have lunch with you."

"Well, I certainly do enjoy the sound of this plan. You deserve a day off. You also deserve a major pay raise. And campaigns are big money makers. Your grandparents give tons of money to whatever Republicans they think can win, every election cycle."

"If that DNA test had proved that you weren't related to Grandma, would you still speak to her?" Rory asked, as her mother's tone had dripped of disdain.

"Yes. But I'd wait for her to taste all the food before I ate it."

Rory paused. "Let's watch _Glee_."

Lorelai brighten. "Let's."

XXXX

Rory sat in Jack Kent's campaign headquarters, in a hard plastic chair just outside his office with a cup of coffee that an intern brought her, scrolling through her email on her phone. She'd been five minutes early, but she'd been sitting in wait for at least fifteen.

"I'm sorry," the same intern that brought her the coffee came back with a stack of brightly colored papers, likely fresh off the copy machine. "Mr. Kent told me to tell you that he'll be with you in a minute. He didn't know he had this meeting. The campaign manager arranged it, and he tends to push Mr. Kent's schedule to the limit. Can I get you anything else? A donut?"

"I'm fine," Rory assured the eager intern. "I can wait."

She smiled as the college co-ed scurried away, back to answer a phone or stuff envelopes or whatever was on her list of tasks for the day. Rory closed her email and checked her prior text messages in her inbox. There were no new messages from Logan, but the last one from three days ago was still saved. She wasn't proud that she'd continued to engage in activities with her former live-in boyfriend that were solely of a suggestively sexual nature. They certainly weren't dating again. But it was easy. It made her feel good, in a way she hadn't experienced in a while. Her love life had been intermittent, if not stagnant at times since her break up with Logan Huntzberger. It wasn't that she needed a big relationship to make her happy; but a little spark now and then was a nice distraction. Maybe her mom had been right about one thing; she was growing weary of the grind at work. If her interludes with Logan helped her through the doldrums, what was the harm? She looked up and shoved her phone in her bag as Jack Kent rounded the corner toward her.

"Rory, I'm sorry! I was shanghaied with a financial meeting. My campaign manager is obsessed with money. I keep telling him that if we're doing our job right, the money will come to us, but he's something of a micro-manager. But he's the best, so I keep him around. I see you got some coffee. I can only offer my sincerest apologies," he grimaced as he opened his office door for her.

Rory stood. "Oh, no, it's fine. I mean, not the coffee. It's terrible," she laughed with ease.

Jack moved to sit in his chair, opening the button on his jacket and shoving over a stack of files from his view. "There's a lot of clutter in here. We're in the process of changing some things, but even the smallest change requires a mountain of paperwork. And it doesn't matter how many interns I have on staff, I still have to initial every last line."

"You should really go paperless," Rory offered off-handedly, but he snapped his fingers.

"Yes. We should. And with more people with your mindset, we could do it. I've already got other environmentally friendly measures in place. But recycled paper isn't enough. Oh, and if you use the spoons to stir sugar in your coffee, watch out. They're compostable and they tend to … melt in the fair-trade coffee. But there's a Starbucks two blocks down."

"I appreciate the warning, and the offer," Rory began.

Jack waved his hand. "Now, you promised to let me give you the full pitch before you break my heart by declining," he smiled, easily charming her. He was a handsome man—a good candidate. He was passionate about helping better their state, he was charismatic; he was smart and well educated. He should be a shoe-in, save for the opposing candidate who would most likely have a similar resume. "And as well as I speak on my own behalf, my secret weapon will be arriving momentarily to give you the hard sell. People can't say no to him, and I like to use that to my advantage to bring in the best people for my team."

"I'm sure he's very persuasive," she assured, "but I really think that you've overestimated my worth to your campaign."

"You know politics. I've read your writing for years. I know all I need to know. Now tell me a few things, before my campaign manager arrives. Just a few questions, if you'll be so kind to humor me."

Rory smiled, despite herself. He really was charming. "Okay."

"Would you vote for me?"

"Of course," she answered honestly. "If I still lived in Connecticut."

"It's your home state. Surely you care about what's happening here. You have family here, correct?"

She nodded. "Yes, I do. But I live and work in New York. I'm a registered voter there. And I don't plan on getting involved in any campaigns there either. I write about politics, I don't get involved in the actual campaigns."

He pointed at her. "Yet."

"Something tells me you're the persistent sort," Rory teased genially.

"You hear the word no a lot the first time when you go into politics. If I let a few no's stop me, I wouldn't have gotten this far. I envision a lot of things, most of them more ideal than what reality can produce, but it starts here, building my team of people who can help me put my dreams into action. I envision you in my bullpen, writing my speeches, handling press conferences. You're ideal."

"I really am flattered," she admitted honestly, starting to feel bad about disappointing him.

"Good," he held up a hand. "Just hang on to that feeling and talk to my guy, okay?" he asked as he waved past her to someone on the other side of his glass door. "Now, I will warn you, he can be a little brash at times. He speaks his mind and doesn't really dally in niceties. But he's effective as all hell and if I had to go into a foxhole with anyone, it would be him. He's like a sheep dressed in wolf's clothing," he explained.

"And this is who is going to sweet talk me into taking this position?" she asked, half-joking.

"I told you; he's effective. I never said he was going to kill you with kindness. Besides, you have to have a tougher skin in this business," Jack explained.

Rory didn't have the chance to respond as the door opened and a familiar, tall, blonde-haired man in a suit entered the room. The air in the room changed when he joined their meeting; as if they'd experienced a shift in elevation. Rory stood to greet the man who was to sell her on a job she had been telling everyone including herself she had no intention of accepting, but he failed to take her offered hand.

"What's going on here?" he asked in a rather accusatory manner.

Jack smiled, unfazed. "This is our new head speech writer," he introduced them. "Rory Gilmore, I'd like you to meet…."

"We've met," Tristan Dugrey cut him off, nodding curtly to Rory and refocusing on his candidate. "Didn't you go through the short list of qualified speech writers I left on your desk?"

Jack leaned back against his desk. "I'm sure they're all very good."

"And vetted. They all clear. You just have to pick one," Tristan spoke with confidence and annoyance, as if addressing a teenager.

"So vet her. I like her," Jack pointed to Rory, who was beginning to feel as if they'd forgotten she was in the room.

Tristan gave a derisive snort. "I wouldn't bother to vet her. She wouldn't pass."

"Excuse me?" she asked, no longer feeling invisible so much as insulted.

Jack crossed his arms, curiosity taking over as he glanced from one to the other. "Just how do you two know one another?"

Tristan briefly considered Rory, who had her arms folded protectively over her chest and was openly glaring at him at this point. "We went to school together," she answered, no remembrance of the good old days inferred in her tone.

"Briefly," he amended.

"Did you vet him?" Rory asked Jack, who smiled at her irritated tone.

"He didn't need to. I'm the best," Tristan answered without missing a beat, his tone confident.

"So run her this afternoon and we'll sign the papers tomorrow. Does that work for you?" Jack looked to Rory.

Tristan also leveled his gaze to the brunette, who had failed to answer the question. "Do you even want this job?"

"Why wouldn't she want this job?" Jack Kent asked.

"She's a reporter, for one. She gets off on revealing scandals and exposing the seedy underbelly of the political world, not on lifting up candidates for election."

"Got a lot of scandals and seediness you're trying to hide?" Rory asked Tristan. "Because I would imagine if anyone had skeletons in their closet, it would be you."

"Not only is she a 'journalist'," he said, using air quotes to annoy her, "but she thinks she's the noble sort. No way does she want to work for a political campaign, and we need dedicated people here. Not just someone looking for a pay increase or the inside scoop for her own means."

"Hey, for your information, Jack courted me, not the other way around," Rory defended herself against her former classmate.

"Is that your game? You think he likes you and maybe you'll reap a few side benefits there? Because he's running a clean campaign and I'm not about to let you ruin his image by becoming the tabloid mistress."

"He's not even married," Rory began. "Therefore whomever he might see romantically would not be a mistress. And I am not looking for a paramour. I am solely here because I believe that Jack Kent should be the next governor of Connecticut and I have the kind of experience he needs to write his speeches. I've been on the other side; I was in the trenches throughout the last presidential election and reported on Obama from his days as one of the many to his inauguration. I know what the reporters are going after, and I can play to that."

Jack sat back, nodding with approval, clearly pleased with her impassioned response. "Vet her."

Tristan ground his teeth as he looked from his candidate to the last person he would have pulled into this campaign of his own free will. Jack Kent was the perfect candidate—not only could he win, but he had let Tristan pretty much call all the shots on staffing up to this point. This job had been a dream come true. But now things were starting to get to the point of no return and for whatever reason, Jack had his sights set on hiring Rory Gilmore. He knew she'd pass the vetting—surely she'd never done anything untoward in her whole life. She was probably clean as a whistle, but he wasn't sure she had the fortitude to handle what a political run required—and he sure as hell didn't want to be the one to break her into politics.

"I don't like this," he said finally.

"And here you've been hiding it so well thus far," Rory rolled her eyes and sat back down in her chair. Her phone buzzed in her bag and she glanced down to see that she was going to be late for her lunch with her mother and that Logan had left her a new text message. She pushed her phone down further into her bag and attempted to keep her thoughts on what was happening around her.

"Tristan, I trust your judgment. You've done everything in my best interest so far. But I'm telling you, I want her for this position. So put aside whatever bias you have when it comes to her, pretend you've never met her, and do as I ask. Unless she's a serial killer with a penchant for assassinating political hopefuls," he said with a serious tone, "She's in."

Tristan whipped out his cell and typed something into it. "Fine. I'll vet her. But if she has so much as an unpaid parking ticket, I'm not going to let it go."

Jack just smiled. "We'll talk. Rory, thank you so much for coming all the way here. I'll be in touch soon, okay?"

She nodded and shook his hand. "No problem."

Tristan opened the door for her. "Jack, don't forget; you have the lunch with the Women's League at one. The car will be here for you in fifteen minutes."

As the door shut behind him, Tristan lowered his voice. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Rory swung around and looked up at him. "Why? You didn't get it all out in there?"

"My office is over here," he instructed, not offering any better explanation.

"Fine. But I need to go soon," she huffed as she marched into his office. He closed the door and leaned back on the edge of his desk. She stood near the door and stared at him, having nothing positive to say to him after what had transpired in Jack's office.

"You have lunch plans?" he probed.

"Yes," she answered tersely without offering any supplementary information. He didn't sound as if he were offering to share a meal with her, but either way she was glad to have another commitment. If he was going to dig into her past, she had no intention of making it easy for him. She was grateful to have had the theft charge expunged from her record. Since her brush with the law, the only thing she'd done that she was ashamed of was this recent bout of sexting she was partaking in with Logan, but that in no way involved breaking the law; just the rules of proper society. Nor was it common knowledge, unless he planned to interrogate her mother. She wondered if she should put the idea past him.

He nodded. "So, how have you been?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Since Chilton?"

He sighed at her reticence. "Listen, the way I acted in there, it doesn't mean I dislike you in some way. This is my job, and believe me when I tell you that not everyone is cut out for politics. If you're too green you get eaten alive and if you've got things you don't want exposed, it shines a spotlight on it before ripping it to shreds for the whole world to see."

"What does that make you, a shark?" she volleyed back.

"I do what needs to be done," came his simple, yet heavy response.

"Jack Kent can't need you to do much dirty work for him," she shook her head. Even if Tristan was comfortable with the dark side of politics, she couldn't imagine the man needing much in the way of that kind of protection. She knew that much about him.

"It's politics. You have no idea the barrage of false rumors that people attempt to pin on his record. If you can't produce solid, retaliatory information on them first, they can say whatever they want and voters will believe it. Papers don't have to be wholly accountable for anything they print, which I'm sure you're aware. And do not get me started on bloggers and Twitter—people talk about how great social media is, but it's a logistics nightmare."

She listened to him in awe. But she wasn't about to feel sorry for him. "And you're worried that, what? I'll add to these rumors or that I'll get eaten alive?"

He looked at her with a sudden softness. "Honestly, I've learned not to make those assumptions about anyone. You tell me, what am I going to find? That you cannot tell a lie or that you have a list of enemies up and down the eastern seaboard?"

"Nothing in my life would hurt his campaign. And I'm a good writer," she said both statements with certainty, though still not thrilled with the idea of him searching through her life, looking for offenses to use against her. It seemed so backhanded.

"I know you're a good writer. You don't have to sell me on that; besides, Jack's already sold. My information gathering is a precaution at this point, but that doesn't mean I'm happy about any of it."

She nodded, not understanding still why he was so against her working on the campaign unless he was holding some sort of grudge from high school. It seemed petty, but she honestly didn't know much about the man that stood before her, save for the fact that Jack Kent thought him to be the man that could pave the path to the governor's mansion for him. "I need to go. Do your digging, make your decision. I'd say it was a pleasure, but I'm still on the fence about that. Goodbye, Tristan."

He moved to open his door, his upbringing in Hartford society haven beaten his gentlemanly attributes into him. "Just because I'm hesitant to hire you doesn't mean I didn't enjoy seeing you again. We'll be in touch."

She paused in his doorway as she passed him, taking a moment to search his eyes. He definitely didn't look unhappy with her or her general presence, as least not in that instant. She would have sworn he'd have soon as deported her than hired her back in Jack's office. She nodded, her face furrowed slightly in confusion. A moment later, she was on the other side of his door, alone in the back hallway. She could hear the noise and bustle coming from the rest of the office ahead of her.

She pulled out her phone to call her mother, to tell her she'd meet her at Luke's Diner instead picking her up at the Dragonfly Inn and walking over to lunch together due her now running behind yet again. She hesitated in dialing and instead checked the new text message she'd received from Logan. The words on the screen made her blush and she felt her lungs swell with air at the imagery he provided. The inability to act on these messages kept a safe distance between them, while offering a small rush of arousal. If they'd been in even quick traveling distance of one another, it might be tempting to risk another in-person encounter. It was better this way, though, that she instead take the time to wait until later that evening to send him her response, to let him relish in that as he went to bed. She put the phone back in her bag and walked through the office. She'd call her mother from the car, when she'd had a minute to absorb all that had occurred in the past hour.

It struck her as odd, how so much seemed to have shifted for her in the last hour, when really her life was the same as it had been when she woke up this morning. Whatever the reason, she definitely did not consider her options limited now. For the first time in a long time, she felt like something new was on the horizon.


	2. No Show Romeo

Story Title: No Way Back

Chapter Title: No-Show Romeo

Description: Rory Gilmore gets tangled up in the other side of politics, but is she prepared to tangle with all it entails? Not if Tristan Dugrey has anything to say about it.

Rating: T (for now)

AN: Thanks for the reviews! I'm glad you guys are enjoying it so far. The title is from the Foo Fighters song. This won't be a song fic (obviously) but it seems to fit how I feel about this story.

Lorelai walked up to the counter, which was mostly empty save for a couple of diners still finishing up the remnants of their meal. She was one of five people still left in the establishment, given the post-lunch hour, but she was the only one that was yet to enjoy her meal. Luke came down the stairs with change and gave her a nod as he walked past her on his way to the cash register.

"How long have I been coming here?" she asked, her elbows resting on the counter and a nearly full cup of coffee sitting in front of her.

Luke frowned. "It feels like forever," he answered glibly.

She pouted. "You make that sound like a prison sentence."

He shrugged. "Do you have a point to asking, or are you just trying to while away time until Rory gets here?"

"I always have a point."

"I wish that were true," he teased her.

"My point," she said with gusto, "is that I am your most loyal customer. I have tried everything on your menu, and I have stuck by you through your menu changes, your extra salad phases, and your herbal tea offerings. I also grant you sexual favors on a regular basis."

"When did you ever eat a salad?" he asked in all seriousness.

"I pretended to eat one, once. To scare Kirk into thinking I was pregnant so he'd let me have his table. And his milkshake," she smiled evilly.

"Just register your complaint," he sighed.

She smacked her forehead with her palm. "You _need_ the John Cleese voice. It doesn't do it any justice otherwise."

"I can refuse you service," he cleared his throat.

She smiled back. "You wouldn't dare. I just bought a new black dress."

He considered her logic and faltered. "Just get to it, will you?"

"This is decaf," she pointed to the cup in front of her, which she'd taken exactly one sip of before bringing it back.

He gave her a look that assured her she was crazy. "No, it's not."

"It is. I can taste the caffeine, and there is none in that cup. It's devoid of energy. It's got no kick. It's flaccid, if you will."

"Coffee can't be flaccid. You're assigning human characteristics to inanimate objects again."

"You could see how I could get confused—I need real coffee to animate me," she frowned and tapped on the counter.

"That is real coffee," he sighed, feeling the beginning of the end.

"No, it's decaf. When have you ever been able to slip decaf by me? And why would you even try?" she asked, wondering if he really knew her at all.

"Because you're all wound up over Rory getting here, and now her being late. It's Rory—if she's late, she has a good reason. In fact, you should go check your phone for the message I'm sure she left you. Outside," he pointed.

"Give me the real coffee first," she leveraged.

"Gladly," he said, taking the first cup and replacing it with a to-go cup of coffee.

Lorelai turned to the door when Rory's car pulled up on the street. Lorelai moved to open the door to the establishment for her daughter and gave her a big hug. They walked over to the table together, and Luke came up beside them as they sat down.

"Hey, Rory," he smiled warmly. "Can I get you something?"

"I'd love a cup of coffee to start," she said, glad for the option of great coffee and spoons that wouldn't melt.

Luke turned to stare at Lorelai, whose mouth opened in protest. "What?"

"Nothing," he muttered as he stalked off to fill the order.

"What was that about?" Rory asked her mother.

"Don't mind him," Lorelai waved her hand in his general direction. "He's getting grumpier every year. In ten more years, I'm going to find him a sidekick and remake _Grumpy Old Men_."

"You already have a pretty good _Odd Couple_ routine going," Rory joked.

"I plan on playing Sofia Loren's character, thank you very much," she smiled.

"What is all this with your sudden desire to break into acting?" Rory asked as she took a sip of the coffee that Luke had slid in front of her.

"Sookie and I signed up for an improv class," she announced.

"You didn't," Rory looked at her mother with wide eyes.

"We did. She was dying for something to get her out of the house a couple of nights a week, and it was either this or an introduction to cooking."

"I imagine only destruction and doom would have come with the two of you in a kitchen attempting to prepare food together," Rory nodded.

"I accept my own talents as a food eater rather than a food preparer. And Sookie is dangerous enough in the Dragonfly's kitchen—no place else would have the liability insurance to cover her," she blew out a breath. "So improv it is. We haven't started yet, but we are working on a stage name for when we take our set out on the road."

"I like that you're taking it one step at a time," Rory mocked in a placating tone.

"It's all in the details. I don't have to tell you. So, are you getting bored of being prompt and timely? What's with all the lateness?"

Rory stared blankly. "I left you a message!"

"Luke still makes me go outside! And all Michel told me was that you called and I had to go ahead to lunch alone, but I should get used to it because statistically Luke is going to die before me and no other man would put up with my eccentricities. Do I have that many? Am I going to be the crazy cat lady when Luke dies?"

"Well, first you'd need to get some cats," Rory teased.

Lorelai looked back to Luke, who was on the phone. "I'm just going to have to make sure he lives forever."

"Or how about that you die before he does?" Rory offered at a slow pace, as if to make her mother realize how much more likely her scenario was. "Then he can get cats."

Lorelai scoffed. "Please. I don't plan on dying. Science is advancing more and more every day, so by the time I finally begin to age, they'll have figured out some reversal process. Or cell regeneration, that's probably pretty close to fixing the whole death thing."

"The whole death thing?" Rory cocked her head at her mother.

"I'm just saying. So, did the great Jack Kent keep you waiting? Because I can withhold my vote, if he's not respectful of our time together," she led.

"Well, he did, but it wasn't his fault," Rory began. "I went in there, and listened to what he had to say, and I was still set against it. But by the time I left, I don't know what happened—I think I might have agreed to be his speech writer."

Lorelai leaned back. "Wow. Wait. Is this a good thing?"

Rory shrugged. "I don't even know. His campaign manager came in, and oh my God, you won't believe who his campaign manager is," she closed her eyes and shook her head, as if reliving the horror.

"Bernie Madoff?" Lorelai asked.

"He's in prison for life," Rory tilted her head at her mother.

"So? You think people in prison aren't running things from the inside? It happens all the time."

"What do you know about prison?"

"Well, granted, not as much as you. Or Luke. Hey, Luke!"

Luke came back over and huffed. "You ready to order?"

"Yes, in a minute. When you were in jail," she began.

He sighed and looked to Rory. "Why?"

Rory hid a smile. "Don't ask."

"Fine," he said as he walked away.

"Jeez. You people are touchy about your time in the slammer. I'll have to ask Mom's experience next time we get together," she mused happily.

"Tristan Dugrey," Rory said after a brief pause.

Lorelai frowned. "A friend of yours from prison?"

Rory rolled her eyes and shook her head. "He's Jack Kent's campaign manager."

"Why does that name sound familiar?"

"He went to Chilton with me. He was my no-show Romeo."

"No-show Romeo. I think we have found a new nickname," Lorelai smiled knowingly at her daughter.

"Anyway," Rory ignored her mother, "I was all set to say no, but Tristan comes in and he doesn't even talk to me and he dismisses the idea outright. No 'how are you doing' or talk of consideration, he just set out telling Jack what a colossal mistake it would be to hire me."

"And suddenly you wanted this job a lot, didn't you?" Lorelai asked with a knowing sparkle in her eyes.

Rory frowned. "No. I mean, a little. I don't know what happened. One minute I was politely declining to Jack and the next minute I was arguing my worth to Tristan."

"Wow. He's either insanely good at his job or he hates you," Lorelai mused.

"How are those your two conclusions?" Rory demanded.

"Well, I mean, I wasn't there, but from the sound of it he turned your definite no into a yes with minimal effort. So, either he has you exactly where he wants you, or he's just incredibly transparent and doesn't want you near the campaign. Didn't you two kiss or something? Not just in the school play, but at some party?"

Rory took in her mother's reasoning, which for once wasn't completely off the wall. She knew her mother was capable of sound logic, and that she reveled in driving those she loved a little crazy with her outlandish notions. "That was a million years ago. We were sixteen. Who would still be mad about something that lasted for a second twelve years ago?"

"Didn't you set him up with Paris? People have started wars over less," Lorelai pointed out.

"Yeah, but he got to go to military school. I'm the one that had to suffer through Paris for the rest of high school, not to mention college."

"Maybe he had a crush on you, and you wounded his pride. Men are weird that way. Hey, Luke, do you still harbor ill will for anyone from high school that you had a crush on that didn't like you back?"

Luke now looked sorry he'd come back to the table. "I'm going to bring you burgers and fries. And then I'm going to go upstairs until you're done."

Lorelai rolled her eyes. "So, what now?"

"Jack went to bat for me. He told Tristan to vet me and that he'd be in touch soon."

Lorelai paused. "Does Jack know about your arrest?"

Rory shook her head. "Not that I know of. But that was expunged from my record, it doesn't matter."

Lorelai cringed. "Yeah, well, those guys tend to be able to pull things up that other people don't have access to. If he's good enough to be working for Jack Kent, he's going to find out."

Rory traced the handle of her mug. "I don't like it, the idea of him right now, digging up all the information he can on me."

"Feeling exposed, are we?" Lorelai raised an eyebrow. "Welcome to politics."

Rory frowned. "But I'm not vying to be the candidate. Just his speech writer."

"Sounds like you really want this job now."

Rory took another drink of coffee. "Maybe. I mean, it would be a change of pace."

"You can say that again."

"It was easier when I wasn't interested. Now I have to sit here and wait for them to learn everything about me and decide my worth."

"So do a little digging of your own. You're a reporter. You have access. And it's only smart to know what you're getting into."

"I did research on Jack already," Rory assured her mother.

Lorelai smiled and shook her head. "I wasn't talking about Jack Kent. I was talking about your No-show Romeo."

Rory paused in thought. "That might be the best idea you've ever had."

XXXX

Rory's mind was racing. She'd spent the better part of the afternoon doing the type of intensive research she put into any story, but this time it wasn't for print. She wasn't sure if she'd have to use it for ammunition or if she had simply been trying to know who she was dealing with. She was also uncertain as to what exactly Tristan would have been able to dig up on her on such short notice—Jack didn't give him a lot of time to complete the task. Someone was supposed to contact her at some point in the day, but she had headed straight over to the campaign's headquarters the moment she felt she had enough information collected on one Tristan Dugrey.

She walked through the ever-busy mass of desks and cubicles, some empty as their placeholders milled about, exchanging information and doing the busywork that filled a political run. This was the stuff Rory always knew happened but never got to see. She'd been much more interested in platforms and past voting records and personal agendas that motivated the way the officials represented their constituents. It was easy to get bogged down in scandals that cropped up and various mistruths spread by the other camps—they were out there and they were loud enough in the ears of the people, what with so many other media channels constantly regurgitating the dark side of human nature. No one needed a reminder that no one was perfect, least of all those who were vying to be chosen to make decisions on laws that would affect the whole. She'd chosen to focus on facts, most of which tended to get lost in the rest of the muck, to help people dig beneath the rest of it to see what was really happening in the political realm.

She'd taken personal offense to the comment Tristan had made the day before about how she made her living feeding off of scandals and the pitfalls of these people who were under constant scrutiny. She did not pander to the lowest common denominator. If anyone made his living dealing with that kind of information, it was him, not her.

His door was closed, and solid—in contrast to Jack's, which was glass to allow him to constantly have an eye on what was going on, and for others to access him easily as well. She knocked on it sharply and waited, hoping he was in there. The volunteer that had greeted her had told her that Jack wasn't around, but that Mr. Dugrey had returned a half an hour prior. She was awarded after a short wait by the door opening and his frame filling the empty space the door left in its wake.

"I wasn't expecting you," he informed her.

"I figured I'd stop by after my appointment."

He didn't need to know that her afternoon plans had involved eating with her mother and an intensive two-hour search on the Dragonfly's computer to find out just what he had been up to in the years spanning their years at Chilton and him landing the job as Jack Kent's manager.

He nodded and stepped back. "Come in. Can I get you anything?"

She moved to sit in the chair opposite his, taking time to place her purse at her feet, and cross her legs at the ankles. She lifted her head up to meet his gaze as he had settled back comfortably in his chair.

"I'm fine."

He tapped on his desk with his forefingers and waited for a beat. She was beginning to wonder if he was really going to wait for her to begin this conversation when he finally spoke. "I can't recommend you to Jack."

"Found out about my killing spree of PTA leaders did you?" she joked.

His face did not lighten. "You must know what this is about."

"I think I'd like to hear what you think you know about me that's so bad I would mar your precious campaign," she shot back, holding her ground.

He opened the file in front of him and examined it for a moment. "In May of 2005, there is a notation for a criminal charge that has been expunged from your record."

"You cannot be serious," she shook her head in exasperation. "That was nothing, and I paid my debt to society. I was a model citizen before that incident and since. In fact, I got an accommodation for excellence during my mandated community service."

"For the record," he began, leaning in over his desk toward her. "I would not categorize grand larceny as nothing, especially when you're being vetted to work for an elected public official. People frown on that."

"It was a youthful indiscretion. Surely you of all people understand that. And how do you know what I was arrested for, anyway? It was expunged, which means it's been removed from public record."

"I would appreciate it if you could remember that I am good at my job. I have resources that most people don't have," he informed her. "But if I can find it so easily, the opposing side will be able to pull it up just as fast the moment your name is announced as being added to our team, and do you know what will be all over the front pages of the political sections of every newspaper tomorrow?"

"We didn't even take the boat out of the harbor!" she exclaimed at him, now growing annoyed with his using her one legal misstep against her. She knew he would enjoy finding anything to bar her from this opportunity, but she felt he was beating a dead horse. No one would care about this blip on her radar, not really. It certainly wouldn't dissuade anyone from voting for Jack Kent.

"That's right, you weren't alone when you stole that boat, were you? Though you were the only one formally charged afterward. But I'm willing to bet that the Huntzbergers have a formidable legal team. Guess they didn't offer to share counsel with you, huh?"

Rory stared at him in surprise, attempting to regain her composure. "How did you…?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "I will tell you one more time. I am thorough. I leave nothing to chance. Are you going to tell me next that you didn't want to steal the boat, but the charming, rich newspaper heir made you do it?"

Rory sat back. "No. And he's not the heir anymore."

Tristan snorted. "That won't last. That's one big goddamn fortune to walk away from, and for what? To prove some point to his old man? He didn't do it for you, did he?"

Rory narrowed her gaze. "That is none of your business. I've worked hard to put right the wrongs I've incurred, and how and why I am involved with Logan Huntzberger has no bearing on my ability to do this job."

"Funny you should word it that way. Because you're still involved with him, aren't you?" he pressed.

She sucked in a breath. "We broke up a few years ago."

Tristan nodded, feigning understanding. "I know. But that doesn't mean you don't still keep in touch, does it?"

She froze. "What?"

"I mean, I get it. Believe me. If someone like you was sending me text messages like that, well," he chuckled softly, for a brief moment resembling the boy she remembered roaming the halls of Chilton, "I don' t know what this guy's problem is, but I sure as hell wouldn't be living on the opposite side of the country from you."

"How did you," she closed her eyes, feeling much more violated than she's imagined during this process.

"I have friends. A lot of them, in many different places. They tell me things because I've proven that I'm the kind of guy that it's beneficial to be friends with."

A knock came at the door as she sat unmoving in her chair, flushed and fuming at his revealing just how knowledgeable he now was about her life. "Come in," he called.

The door opened to reveal Jack Kent, who smiled as he realized that Rory was in the office. "Rory, wonderful. So, I take this to mean everything's going smoothly? I have everything drawn up."

Tristan cleared his throat. "I'm afraid we have a major conflict of interest," he eyed Jack with a guarded look.

Jack frowned. "I'm sure Rory is willing to relocate. It'd be a hell of a commute from New York."

"I'm not talking geographical issues. I'm talking campaign contributors to McKerney's camp."

Jack looked at Rory at the mention of his Republican competitor. "Richard may be a registered Republican, but he wouldn't contribute to McKerney."

"It's not her grandparents. She's in bed with the Huntzbergers. Mitchum Huntzberger has already pledged the allowed limit to McKerney's fund."

Rory stood up. "Excuse me, I've only been in bed with one Huntzberger, thank you very much. I wouldn't sleep with Mitchum Huntzberger if I had a gun to my head."

Tristan's eyes lit up. "Well, at least we know you'd be good for providing memorable sound bites."

Rory glared at him. "You're just looking for any excuse to get rid of me. You know I'd be perfect for this job. Logan Huntzberger is inconsequential—he's long since split ways with his family's money, and he lives in California."

Jack listened to them both. "You're not dating Logan Huntzberger currently, then?"

Rory shook her head. "No, I'm not."

Tristan pressed his lips together, holding back whatever comment he wanted to add. She wasn't sure if it was a remark intended for only her or only Jack, but either way she noticed him as he visibly held back.

"And that's the only misgiving you had about going forward on this issue?" Jack addressed Tristan.

"McKerney's team is scared, and they're desperate. I can't impress enough upon you how bad they want to nail you with anything, even if it's just making a stink about her bad judgment in men."

"Hey!" Rory exclaimed.

"I'm sorry, I'm sure he was a real mensch," he rolled his eyes. "Hey, why did you break up anyway?"

Jack turned to Rory, who was on the verge of losing the rest of her calm. "Can you wait for me in my office? There are some papers I need you to sign, and then we can hit the ground running. I have a speech I need to give on Friday, at UConn on education. We should start brainstorming. I just need to discuss something with Tristan first."

Rory nodded, feeling disconnected from what was happening. She knew she was being handled, but she couldn't help but fight the urge to finish the discussion she'd been having with Tristan. She'd spent the whole time in his office defending herself, and she hadn't once had the opportunity to throw anything about his past in his face, even if just to remind him that everyone had something they didn't enjoy discussing. She picked up her purse and slipped out of the room, taking a few steps before granting herself entrance to Jack's office. She picked up her phone. Logan hadn't yet responded to her latest text, which she now remembered with a vivid clarity. That message had been intended solely for Logan's eyes, but now Tristan had seen it; he'd probably read all of their exchanges, or at least all of hers in relation. It was mortifying enough to type out some of those thoughts, but worth the rush she got from Logan's responses to her words. She wasn't feeling any better about having Jack's approval in the end as he himself joined her in his office.

"How's your first day going so far?" he asked good-naturedly.

"Are you sure you want me for this job? Tristan seems to think," she began earnestly.

Jack held up his hand. "Tristan can be an ass. Granted, it's usually to the opposing team when they sling mud, but," he grimaced. "It's just one side of him. We just lost our last speech writer, and we can't afford to lose another one. He feels he should have caught that issue before it got to the point that we had to cut our losses, and he seems to have some sort of hesitation when it comes to you, but I wouldn't take it personally. He doesn't want to lose."

"So my prior connection to Logan Huntzberger isn't a deal breaker? You want to hire me?"

Jack smiled. "Welcome aboard. For the first couple of weeks, get in here when you can, and we can teleconference while you're moving and finishing up your notice at the paper. I'll give you what I need you to sign, and then I'll send you back to Tristan for some of the finer details of what we'll expect of you. I'm very excited about this."

Rory swallowed as she shook his hand. "Thank you. For the confidence. I won't let you down."

Jack smiled. "I can't imagine you would. And I know Tristan won't allow it."

XXXX

She wondered if she was going to get to finish her heated discussion with Tristan after all. She'd been in his office for five minutes, having finished her preliminary business with Jack, who was now off to another engagement. He'd been on the phone all that time, though given his short responses with lack of details, she had no idea who on earth he was speaking to—just that he'd waved her in when she came by his then open door.

"Yes. I said yes. Fine. Of course I don't mean it, but I told you I would and I will. Okay. Bye," he said as he hung up the line. "So, congratulations, I suppose."

She frowned. "What a warm welcome. It's really like a second family around here."

"Rule one, for the duration of the campaign, you are the job. You wake up thinking about how best to get Jack Kent elected, you work to that end over lunch, you keep a pad of paper in your car while you're stuck in traffic so you can keep track of random ideas that pertain to the campaign, you go to bed and dream of election night and our man's name being called out. Understand?"

"I think I get it. We want Jack to win, right?" she repeated like a child, hoping that he wasn't really like this all the time. Sure, he wasn't pleased with his decision being overturned, but he was still just a hired hand. It wasn't his bid for governor they were working toward, it was Jack's.

"I'm effectively your boss. Nothing goes out without my permission, I have full veto power over anything you write, and Jack will see nothing until I have seen it first. You don't take concerns to Jack; Jack is busy. You bring all concerns to me to deal with. If they need to go through to Jack, I will take them."

"Are you always like this?" she asked, not able to take the barking commands any longer.

"Like what?" he posed, disinterested.

"Do you hate me because I wasn't your top pick? Or did I do something else to wrong you that I'm unaware of? Because it's going to be a long campaign at this rate," she informed him.

"Look, Jack wanted you in, so you're in. I'll take the necessary steps to make sure the other side doesn't find anything if they dig into you. I'm already burying the rehab situation, so it won't be that much more to take on, but you have to at least do me the favor of stopping contact with Huntzberger."

She frowned. "Excuse me?"

"Did I stutter?" he blinked at her.

"You can't possibly be telling me who I'm allowed to talk to."

"Yeah, I can. But more importantly, I'm specifically telling you to stop telling the heir to the Huntzberger media fortune that you touch yourself while thinking about him."

Rory flushed instantly. "You had no right," she began.

"I had every right. I was vetting you. It is my job to know everything. If that hurts your delicate sensibilities, then go back to New York and keep being your editor's gopher. That's another thing, you need to move."

"It's being taken care of," she lied, though she knew the moment she left she could put in one call to her grandmother and have a suitable apartment in Hartford lined up within the hour.

"Good. Look, I know women have needs. But let Huntzberger hire a hooker, he's not running for office. And if you really need someone to do dirty things to you," he led.

"Stop right there," she held up her hand and did her best to keep her breathing regulated. She couldn't make it that easy for him to get under her skin, if they were going to be working together on a daily basis. "You think I'm in some way incapable of breaking ties with Logan? Because I'm not. I don't enjoy being told what to do by some guy with a God complex, that's all."

He licked his bottom lip and looked up at the ceiling for a moment before refocusing on her. "I could care less about your pitiful excuse for a love life. Nothing I tell you to do benefits me personally; I only care about you so far it relates to the campaign. Got it?"

His tone was hard and suddenly she felt cold. She nodded. "Got it."

"Good."

"Can I ask you something?" she asked, unable to ignore the desire to at least level the playing field a little.

"Does it have to do with the campaign?" he asked, his demeanor still detached.

"What's the rehab situation?" she asked, chickening out.

He loosened his tie. "Our last speech writer apparently took to drinking to deal with the stress of politics. Got unpredictable, then unreliable. We tried to intervene quietly, but it was too late. So he's in rehab and you're here. Do me another favor and stick to coffee."

She smiled easily, as if it were an inside joke. "Done."

"Good," he said without sharing the moment.

"Is there anything else?"

He sat back and put his hand on his face, drawing his fingers across his mouth as he considered her. "That's enough for now. I have your information, I'll call soon to fill you in on what we need to cover for his speech on Friday. We need you here in Hartford as soon as you can."

"Okay," she nodded as she once again collected her purse and moved to the door. He called out just as she reached for the knob.

"Rory?"

"Yeah?" she turned to look at him.

"Why did you two break up?" he asked without the edge of irritation that had accompanied his other inquiries into her past relationship.

She put her hand against the flat plane of the door. "How does knowing that have anything to do with getting Jack elected?"

He smiled. "Good answer."

She left his office then and made her way back to her car, destined for her tiny New York apartment for one of the last times. She had assumed it would be harder for her to give up her life in New York. It was something she'd worked so hard for, and for a couple of years it had been her whole identity. This wasn't the way she thought she'd leave, but as strange as the circumstances were she found she was looking forward to returning home.


	3. Housewarming

Story Title: No Way Back

Chapter Title: Housewarming

Description: Rory Gilmore gets tangled up in the other side of politics, but is she prepared to tangle with all it entails? Not if Tristan Dugrey has anything to say about it.

Rating: T (for now)

AN: Thanks for the reviews, all! I love that there is still a strong showing for Trory out there in fanfic land. I have no idea how long this shall end up being, but I have plans, and all will be revealed at some point. There will be twists and turns, but I promise this won't be her having to choose between Logan and Tristan. Logan is just a hiccup here.

Rory tossed the warm cardboard box onto the granite countertop—the vast expanse of which was an embarrassment of riches in comparison to the tiny square foot of laminate in her New York apartment that would have had to share space with the stove to accommodate the pizza box. She had to admit, her grandmother had outdone herself by finding this gem of an apartment that offered way more space than she would ever need, but most importantly it was just a two-block walk to the campaign headquarters and it boasted a private parking garage so she wouldn't have to worry about that hassle that was on-street parking. Given the faint smell of paint and fresh carpeting, her grandmother had also probably made them spruce up the place before her hasty move-in—after all, it was only five days ago that she hadn't even been in the market for a new place to live and now she was in a new city, unpacked and doing her best to settle in.

She'd just put a slice on a plate—another Emily Gilmore addition, already neatly cleaned and stacked in one of the many kitchen cabinets along with glasses of all types and silverware—when the phone rang. This time it took her four full rings to find the location of her phone. She realized she didn't even know her home number yet.

"Hello?" she asked, wondering who other than her grandparents and the phone company had her new extension.

"Okay, now I'm just insulted. I am so far out of the loop, I can't even see it. The loop is a black hole to me."

"Hi, Mom. Did Grandma give you my new number?" she responded, opening her refrigerator to see a stock of beverages, cold and at her fingertips.

Lorelai emitted a noise. Rory was sure it wasn't the sound of happiness. "Yes, she did. She also went on and on about how great your new place was and rubbed my nose in the fact that I hadn't seen it, though the only way I could have seen it was if I'd let her rope me into coming apartment hunting for you with her, and there is not enough Xanax in the world to make me suffer through searching for real estate with my mother."

"It's really close to work," Rory added, noting her favorite selling point. "Oh my God, is that a wine fridge? It is!"

"Stop it. I'm supposed to help you move in to your fabulous new place. Do you need me to come by and unpack some boxes at least?"

"It's all done," Rory said, taking a bite of pizza. The cheese was still slightly too hot and stringy as she ripped it with her teeth. After her long day of wrapping things up in New York and making the trip to her new home, it tasted divine.

"Done? Didn't you just get there?"

"Yes. I told Grandma that I'd like to be in by today, and she found the place, hired the movers, bought a ton of new stuff, and by the time I got here it looked like a model home. She might drive you crazy, but the woman is good at what she does."

"You mean spending more money in one day than most people do in ten years? Yes, she's a pro," Lorelai gave credit where credit was due.

"I could throw some stuff in a box and have you over this weekend to help me put it back where I got it from, if it's really that important to you. Maybe we could make Luke transport a mattress back and forth, for old times' sake."

"I don't want a pity mattress," she shrugged, still slightly offended at the turn of events. "Besides, I don't actually want to do any manual labor. I just wanted to supervise."

"I have a feeling Emily supervised the process as no one else could," Rory said, taking another bite.

"True. I wonder how many big burly moving men she made cry," Lorelai mused.

"Has she ever made Luke cry?" Rory asked.

"Mmm, no. She's made him confused and left him questioning all that he's ever known and held dear, but she's yet to bring physical tears to his eyes. He may cry tears of relief at her funeral, though."

"She's the one that should have gone into politics," Rory said, carrying her dinner to the brand new dining set, complete with a fresh floral centerpiece. Her old apartment had been too small to even bother with an attempt to cram a proper place to consume meals, so she'd eaten either standing in her kitchen or on the couch. She was sure Emily had envisioned her entertaining guests in the space, not just scarfing down pizza while chatting on the phone.

"Emily has enough power in this world as it is," Lorelai shuddered. "So, how is the job going? Are you wowing your doubting Romeo yet?"

"I would appreciate if we could stop referring to him as Romeo. He's more of a warden than anything else," Rory informed her mother.

"Making an enemy in politics so soon? I'm so proud," Lorelai teased her daughter. "Though I shouldn't be surprised. You always were quick on the uptake."

"We're not enemies, at least, I don't think he really dislikes me. It's more like he's put out that he has to deal with me."

"You are high maintenance," Lorelai joked. "What did his sleuthing uncover?"

"Well, he knew about the whole thing with Logan and the boat. Though, when Jack came in to talk to us, I was surprised that he didn't tell him anything about my larceny charge. Tristan never mentioned my having a record at all to Jack, expunged or not—at least, not in front of me. He claimed his big concern about my working on the campaign was Logan."

"He doesn't like Logan?"

"Not specifically; apparently Mitchum is a big contributor to the Republican candidate's campaign. Tristan said that my being linked to the Huntzberger family would cause a huge problem for Jack and that's why he wouldn't recommend me officially."

"So, wait—did you tell Tristan that you're back with Logan?" Lorelai asked, not sure of the flow of information, especially since Rory had been so adamant before about her not being serious about her interactions with Logan of late.

"No, but he knew that I had stolen the boat with Logan, and he was also aware of my recent correspondence with Logan. Via text messages," Rory explained, her tone leading.

Lorelai gasped. "He read your sexts?"

Rory rubbed her hand over her face, still bothered by that fact. "It seems so."

Lorelai paused on the line. "How dirty were they?"

"Mom!"

"I'm sorry, but it's hard not to be curious. You're a writer, and so they were probably pretty graphic, right?"

"There is no way I am ever telling you about the content of those texts. I'm mortified enough knowing that Tristan read them."

Lorelai laughed. "I bet he doesn't think you're a virgin anymore."

Rory frowned. "That's the silver lining you're offering? Really?"

Lorelai cleared her throat to quell her laughter. "Sorry. But Jack didn't care, right? Because you've moved to Hartford and you got the job. Or did you nail Tristan with all the dirt you were collecting on him?"

Rory sighed. "I didn't get a chance to use any of it. He nailed me with all the stuff he found on me, yet after Jack came in he just mentioned Mitchum, but none of my own misgivings. Then he got all weird, talking about how he was the job and I had to be the job and we were only to focus on the job. There wasn't much chance for a segue back into personal topics."

"I'm impressed. He's good. I mean, I know we hate him for not wanting to hire you and uncovering your dirty little secrets, but still. I have to say, he's playing this well."

Rory pushed her half-eaten slice back. "I don't hate him. I mean, I'm not expecting him to drop by with a housewarming gift so we can make up a secret handshake, but he's just doing his job. I guess I can't fault him for that."

"You're so mature. If Michel had read dirty notes that I had written to Luke, I'd put heavy cream in his skinny, soy, vanilla lattes and relish in watching him cry when he couldn't button his low-rise jeans anymore."

"I'm willing to bet it's exponentially easier to get under Michel's skin than Tristan's. I can't read him; I don't even know if he'd be bothered by his personal transgressions, unless they somehow got in the way of his ability to do his job."

"What were these inner demons of his? A string of wives that have died under mysterious circumstances? Or a major gambling habit that led to him trafficking drugs and killing a man who uncovered the truth? Oh, God, that means you could be next!"

"Your mind is a very dark place," Rory accused.

"Didn't he get kicked out of Chilton for breaking into a safe?" Lorelai recalled. "Sounds like a gateway crime if ever I heard one."

"His dad had him pulled out before he could be expelled. But yeah, technically he broke into a safe. Though that wasn't on his record at all, because the police let their parents handle their punishments. He got sent to military school."

There was a knock at her door. She couldn't imagine it was a neighbor coming to complain about the noise. She still hadn't found the remote to the entertainment system her grandmother had set up in the living room. It was too late for her grandmother to just pop over to check in on her. She had a sudden fear that Emily had probably had a second key made for her own use. "Hey, someone's here. I'll call you back tomorrow; it's getting late and I have an early morning, prepping Jack for his speech, but I should have some down time on the drive over."

"You could always text me. Just remember to keep them clean—you never know who'll see them," Lorelai advised, too late to do Rory any favors.

"Bye," Rory said into the phone as she hung up, moving quickly to the door. She peeked through the peephole, even though she was sure that her grandmother wouldn't have allowed her to move into an unsafe building. There was a security detail in the lobby, after all. She stared for a moment longer than necessary to see Tristan Dugrey waiting on the other side of her door. Apparently her first visitor wasn't going to be the welcoming sort.

She unlocked the door and opened it into the apartment. "This is a surprise, since I haven't notified the office of my new address."

He didn't move to enter her new residence, but instead he just stood there with his long coat over his suit, looking irritated, which she could only guess had everything to do with something she'd done or said. "You seem to be under the impression that you're much harder to keep tabs on that other people. Why is that?"

"Did something happen?" she inquired, too tired to attempt to understand all that he meant by his response. Though short of Jack being caught on video doing drugs with a hooker, she couldn't imagine what couldn't wait until she reported to work the next morning to discuss.

"We need to talk, now," he said in the most restrained tone he could manage. It was painstakingly clear he wasn't pleased about making this house call, but she saw fit to gesture for him to come in anyhow.

"About the campaign?" she inquired dutifully, leading off of their last private conversation. Since the last time she saw him in his office, she'd only received email from him or been on the phone with both him and Jack.

"Yes," he said as she shut the door behind him and he walked further into the living space. "More specifically, I'd love to hear why you are so hell-bent on making my job so damn hard."

She whipped around to face him, her guard already up at his accusation. "Excuse me?"

He pulled out a manila envelope and tossed it onto her dining table, and then immediately pointed to it. "Go ahead, take a look. Then we'll have a chat."

She glanced hesitantly at the envelope. "My speech couldn't have been that bad. I know it's just a first draft, and we'll probably have to make some changes, but," she began.

"Open it," he repeated, clearly not gaining patience.

"Fine," she huffed, taking the envelope and peeling back the metal prongs that held it closed on the back. She slid out several full-sized black-and-white photographs. The images that had been captured were familiar, though she'd not seen them before. She instantly set her gaze on him. "Where did these come from?"

"I told you to stop contact with the Huntzbergers. I thought I'd made myself clear. Apparently I wasn't thorough enough. Not only are you to stop sending dirty text messages to him, but having him come to New York and going into the Plaza with him for a couple of hours is also off the menu," he clarified.

She held up the photos. "This isn't what it looks like. Nothing happened."

Tristan snorted. "That's what everyone says. Just so you're aware, no one ever believes it. Even more damning is the fact that it doesn't take a genius to see that you two are more than just acquaintances. His hands are all over you. You're leaned into him, ready to go up to his room and catch up on lost time. How long had it been since you'd seen him last? Because he doesn't look like he was in the mood to wait."

Rory tossed the photos back on her table. "He was in town on business—I had no idea he was coming. He called my cell when he arrived, and I went to meet him. I hadn't told him that I had to end our, whatever it was. So, I figured in person was best and went to tell him."

"Looks like he took the news well," Tristan spat at her.

"I thought we weren't supposed to even talk about our personal lives. We're supposed to be all about the job," she reminded, hoping to end this line of questioning into her time spent with Logan. She'd done what he asked; wasn't it her business how she chose to handle the matter? Logan wasn't one to be ignored, and as proven by recent events had a penchant for just showing up when other avenues went unanswered. And it wasn't surprising he'd shown up after her last text. Even Tristan would admit that her words in that final text were hard not to want to act on, she was willing to bet. It would have proved to be a very different two hours if she'd gotten the chance, that much was for sure.

"That's why I'm here. I can't just sit back and watch you destroy Jack's chances because this guy has some sort of hold on you. You said you had no problems breaking it off."

"There's nothing to break off. It's done. Those pictures were just us saying hello!" she exclaimed, wondering if her new neighbors were going to start having noise complaints after all.

He let out a low whistle. "If that's you saying hello, I'd hate to see what it looks like when you let him down easy."

"We just talked," she impressed upon him. "I told him I got this new job, and that his dad had given money to the opposing side, and he agreed it was probably for the best anyhow, and then I left."

Tristan shook his head in disbelief. "You really want me to believe that nothing else happened? You were up there for two hours."

Rory tossed her hands up in the air. "We have a history! I don't know why this is so hard for you to understand. Don't you have anyone in your life that you would find it hard to let go of, even though you know you should?"

He looked up at her, startled. "This isn't about my personal life."

She blew out another breath of exasperation. "It never is, is it?" she muttered under her breath.

"Excuse me? What's your problem now? That I'm putting out all the fires you're setting? You have no idea how many ways I've already saved your ass."

"Excuse me if I don't fall at your feet in gratitude," she snapped back. "I just think it's weird that you're so judgmental of me, when you don't exactly have the most straightforward past either."

He cocked his head, his expression shifting from volatile to bored. "Oooh, you went sniffing into my past, is that it? Hey, is there any pizza left?" he asked, moving toward the kitchen and helping himself to a slice from the box without searching for a plate.

"Hey! What are you doing?" she asked, moving to follow him into her kitchen as he took a big bite and opened the refrigerator.

"Why do girls always have Diet Coke and no beer?" he inquired.

"How does stealing my food help Jack get elected?" she pressed, playing on his words.

"I'm hungry. I worked past dinner, going over some financial matters and your speech, which was good, by the way, and then I got these photos by courier. I'd say you owe me a slice or two."

"Are you tired too? I'm sure I have a guest bed and some clean sheets," she tossed at him, sarcasm coating her words as they tended to do when directed at him.

He thought for a moment about her last comment. "You don't know for sure if you have a guest bed, do you?"

She faltered. "It wasn't a real offer. The sooner you leave, the happier I'll be."

He leaned back against her stove. It had gas burners and a warming area, the kind that she was sure people that could cook would drool over. She would get more use out of the microwave. "Do you know why Jack wanted you for this job?"

She eyed him mistrustfully. "I have a feeling you're going to slip in some sort of blatant insult of my abilities in the process of telling me."

"Ironic," he said, taking another bite.

"What's ironic?" she posed as she watched him eat.

"You're acting all paranoid and guarded. He likes you because he thinks you've managed to get to the heart of political journalism without becoming jaded or affected by all the extraneous shit that gets in the way of the work that people like him want to do."

"Did you ever think that I'm only guarded around you because you're always on my case about all the ways I'm not living up to your expectations?"

He shrugged. "I told you, not everyone is cut out for politics. It's going to change you, being in the middle of it. It's not the kind of profession you can leave at the office. Maybe you were able to avoid it, staying on the sidelines and observing when you were writing pieces for the paper, but down here in the trenches, you can't avoid it. I'm not going to change how I do my job. If you can't stay away from Huntzberger, you need to tell me now."

Rory looked away for a moment, letting her eyes examine her new appliances and top of the line fixtures. Everything in her life felt foreign to her in that moment. "It's over. It's for the best anyhow."

"And he shares this opinion?" Tristan asked tightly.

Rory refocused on his face. "I believe so."

He nodded, but didn't seem more or less concerned than before she answered. "Okay," he said as he finished off his dinner.

"So, who took those pictures? One of McKerney's investigators or one of ours?" she asked, though she had a strong suspicion she knew the answer. He was much too calm for these to have been from the opposition. He'd been expecting her to disappoint him.

"One of mine," he answered openly. "Most people say what they think you want to hear. I trust concrete evidence. Those photos don't lie. You can tell me it's over, but the people in those pictures aren't so sure of that."

"That was before," she began, but held back. He didn't want to hear the intimate details of how she'd ended things with Logan. If anything they would only serve as a burden to him; he had the look of a man that knew too much and was never surprised by any of it. He was only concerned with results. "I made my position clear to him. Any more contact he initiates won't be at my prompting."

"If he does, I need you to tell me. I don't want any more surprises," he began. "It won't always be my guy that catches these things first from here on out."

"Even if he does, what can you do about it?" she asked. "I'm sure you'd like to think you can regulate the entire world for your means, but some things are out of your control."

Tristan leaned in toward her, his jaw tight. "If he contacts you again, via text or in person, I will pay him a visit. It would be better if I found out from you than by other means. Are we clear?"

She felt an intensity from him that caused her to take a step back—she was able to put more than a full arm's length between them in her spacious kitchen. "He won't."

He nodded, accepting that it was the only outcome she foresaw. "You need to think about what comes next."

The probing into her personal life and the feelings she had been dealing with had left her feeling raw—now she was more than a little confused at the jump he'd made. Surely he didn't mean with Logan. "After the speech?"

He shook his head. "In politics, you have to keep your mind on what comes next, all while dealing with the barrage coming at you in the moment. You're not just waiting on news to be made, you're making it. You're now a part of a big, most likely successful campaign. Your career track has shifted, and you need to focus on how you're going to use this to move on to the next thing."

"What are you focused on? What's next for you?" she turned the question around on him, not having an answer herself yet.

"The presidential election," he spoke without hesitation. "Once Jack's sworn in as governor, I start the prep work for his presidential bid. It's his job to earn his place in the race, but that's nothing if I don't have everything lined up and ready to go when he's ready."

"But, what about you?" she asked.

He laughed, genuinely amused. "I have no plans to run for office," he assured her. "Jack's the choir boy, not me."

"No, I mean," she shook her head, well aware of that fact. "I mean, personally. All you ever talk about is your job. Surely you have other things you want to accomplish in life."

"Like what?" he asked, as if he couldn't contemplate such notions.

"I don't know; don't you want to get married or travel or learn to make the perfect cup of coffee or something?"

He put crossed his arms over his chest as he considered her inquiry. "I've been married, I travel enough as it is, and there's a Starbucks on every corner. What about you?"

"I could never travel enough, Starbucks is not the best coffee in the world, and I," she hesitated. She'd imagined being married, once. "I'm not sure about the whole marriage thing."

"I should go," he said after a pause. "Sorry for intruding on your first night. It's a nice place."

She nodded, taking the compliment for what it was worth, given that she wasn't really involved in the selection save for handing off a list of search parameters to meet her basic needs. "Thanks. It's close to work."

"That it is," he agreed. "I'll see you in the morning to prep Jack. You're coming to the speech tomorrow night?"

She smiled, excited to hear Jack speak and to see her own work in action for the first time in this way. "Wouldn't miss it."

He nodded. "Thanks for the pizza."

"About the pictures," she began hesitantly. She wasn't sure what she wanted to happen to them, but their existence was something that she couldn't forget. Seeing herself with Logan put the nature of their relationship into a whole other context for her, as if the camera lens had served as a microscope.

He waved his hand as a sign he had a solution in place. "I'll take care of them."

She watched as he slid them easily back into the envelope and tucked it into his jacket.

"It's like it never happened," he assured her as he moved toward the front door.

She wondered if he could really have that effect. Would she get so involved in the process as he, letting herself fall into work and not even feel a pang of longing for what she was walking away from for the second time? Logan had been understanding, supportive—but she'd known that wasn't how he'd hoped their meeting to go. Tristan had been right—the photos said it all. The people in those pictures were so saying so much more than hello.

"Someday you'll have to teach me how that works," she said with a faint smile. It was never the walking away from people that had been her problem—it was the second guessing she put herself through after they were gone that had always tripped her up. Perhaps that's why she had fallen so easily into this rebound of attention from Logan. She told herself that it wasn't real, what they were doing, but if that were true, why were they even bothering? She knew it was pointless to argue the fact that he hadn't seen a dime from his father since he'd moved to California just in order to wait out what might happen between them. Maybe she just wanted something worth fighting for.

He considered her, standing in her doorway as she waited to shut the door behind him and retreat to her brand-new bedroom all alone. "Bad break-up?"

She inhaled fully as she leaned against her open door frame and shook her head slowly. "It never is with Logan. That's what makes the part that comes next so much harder," she gave a shrug of compliance.

He simply nodded, watching her for signs that she was taking it harder than she let on. Outwardly, she was fine—annoyed much of the time, but he knew that as normal in his frame of reference for her. "Start thinking about what's next. When you figure that out, you won't even think about this guy anymore."

"I won't let this interfere with my work or the campaign," she promised, wishing for a minute he could maintain a conversation as himself and not just as a representative of the campaign. She didn't need him to handle her every second they spent in each other's company.

"No, I know. I just meant," he began, then frowned. "Never mind. We're starting at seven tomorrow morning to start going over changes to your speech," he said as he started to walk down the hall toward her elevator.

"I thought you said it was good," she called after him, pushing up on her toes just a little as if it would further the reach of her voice.

He turned and gave her a smile. "It is good. We're going to get it to fucking awesome."

She couldn't help it. She smiled at him as he stepped into the elevator. He raised one hand by way of parting just as the elevator doors closed in front of him. She ran her hands over her arms, feeling chilled despite the controlled mild temperature of the building, and stepped back into her apartment to store the remains of their shared dinner before heading off to bed. Tomorrow would prove to be a challenge of her new skill set. She always did like a challenge.


	4. Misty Watercolor Feelings

Story Title: No Way Back

Chapter Title: Misty Watercolor Feelings

Description: Rory Gilmore gets tangled up in the other side of politics, but is she prepared to tangle with all it entails? Not if Tristan Dugrey has anything to say about it.

Rating: M—mostly for language. (bumped up from T)

AN: I'd love to tell you that all will be revealed in this chapter, but that doesn't sound fun to me. But there are some revelations. And it's a little longer, a reward for all those lovely reviews.

It was a madhouse. Rory had expected things to be hectic and probably loud, but she could never have anticipated the reality of being a part of a candidate's inner circle at a campaign speech stop. Jack Kent had a multitude of supporters, and one of his strongest demographics was the college crowd. They'd arrived at UConn just a short while before, but she'd spent most of the day cooped up in Jack's office with him, and intermittently with Tristan, fine-tuning the speech. Jack had a lot of input as well to personalize the message he wanted to convey, and they easily wove his additions into the structure Rory had built. Tristan had nothing to do with altering the words, but he watched them work, listened for anything that might go against the mood they were attempting to set with the campaign and at the ready to nix anything that might cost Jack votes.

Rory peeked out from backstage to the waiting crowd, wondering if this was the kind of sight rock stars were used to as they took the stage. She knew for a fact that not every politician drew this kind of crowd. It was exciting, just to be in the place with all the energy around them. She knew Tristan was somewhere nearby with Jack and they were en route to the stage; Jack required a level of security from being in the public eye that she did not.

Her phone buzzed in her purse, but she hesitated in reaching for it. Of course her first assumption at being notified of a text message was that Logan saw no harm in continuing their little game. It didn't affect his life, after all, so what would stop him? She'd told him in the past that she needed to break things off for her own good, and he'd responded by asking her to become more serious. That wasn't an option for her now. As much as it pained her to admit, Tristan had been right; she had to think about her own future, and Logan wasn't a part of that.

She subtly checked to see if she were about to be joined in the wings and quickly reached into her large shoulder bag to palm her phone. She brought it out and hit the buttons deftly from practice to pull up the incoming text.

_Sorry if you were expecting something more risqué, but I only know one dirty limerick. Let me know if you need it for one of your upcoming speeches. Mom._

Rory smiled at her mother's strange sense of humor. She knew her mother was lying—she knew a whole host of limericks by heart, all of them vulgar. She began reciting them after too much Founders' Day punch or if she'd really wanted to goad Emily at one of their infamous family dinners.

"There she is."

Rory looked up at Jack's voice. She saw the man of the hour approaching her alongside Tristan and both were trailed by a couple of men that she would not want to meet in a dark alley. She let her phone drop into her bag and straightened her posture.

"You need me?" she asked, at the ready.

Jack nodded. "Just a couple of last minute things. First, my tie?" he pointed to the tie around his neck.

Rory considered it and scrunched her nose. "It's okay. No, wait," she shook her head and held her hand out to Tristan. "Give me yours."

"Excuse me?" he asked, clearly not expecting her to pull him into this conversation.

"Give me your tie. It's for the campaign," she said, giving him an inside nudge.

He rolled his eyes, but loosened the tie completely and handed it to her without further argument. She eased it around Jack's neck as he lifted his off, and she knotted it expertly without being asked.

"You're very good at that," Jack said, impressed.

"It's a talent that's come in handy in the past," she said with a smile. "Much better. Here," she handed the other tie to Tristan, who was just eyeing her wordlessly, but intently.

"Okay, second; are you sure we should keep the part about my grandfather? It's not too kitschy?"

Rory shook her head adamantly. "No, it was the perfect addition. It shows your ties to your family, suggesting a solid foundation of moral values without overplaying the point, plus it leads into that whole next section on education assistance and the need for students to take the time to give back to the community. It's perfect."

Jack nodded, relieved for confirmation that all was on track. The sound of the campus liaison announcing Jack's name silenced them all. Rory reached out to secure Jack's tie and gave him a nod just before he stepped onto the stage, leaving Rory and Tristan to wait and watch from the wings.

"That tie looks terrible on you," she said, not bothering to so much as glance his way.

"It's not my tie. You gave away my tie," he reminded, his focus on Jack taking the podium.

Rory glanced his direction. "You should take it off and stick it in your pocket."

He sighed, but did as she suggested. "Better?"

She shrugged a shoulder, barely looking his way for an assessment. "Passable."

"What's wrong with you?" he asked, finally turning to face her, not enjoying her mood.

"I'm great," she answered honestly. She'd been busy enough to not focus on the few aspects of her life that she feared she'd never be able to figure out. Keeping busy had always been her saving grace in the past. There were nothing like major life changes to swirl up all one's issues. She'd be in trouble if she had the time or inclination to wallow.

"That have something to do with the text I saw you reading just now?" he asked, his voice strained.

She shook her head, annoyance hitting her in the stomach like a sudden hunger. "Unbelievable."

"That you can't go more than twenty-four hours without needing some guy you don't even want to date tell you just how many different ways he wants to fuck you? You're right, it does seem unbelievable. I never would have pegged you as one of those girls."

She turned hard to face him. "You're lewd and you have an incapacity to trust."

"Ouch," he deadpanned. "Your words, they're like razor blades."

"So, wait, you do have feelings? Because you don't give off that impression," she hurled her words at him.

"Listen," he nearly growled, as Jack finished welcoming the crowd to deafening applause, "If you're going to deny it, get on with it. I told you before I need to know. This is me asking nice."

She turned back to face Jack, wishing she could storm off. "Then you need to work on your manners. Even I would have given you more credit than that."

He stuck his hand out. "Hand me your phone."

She eyed him as if he'd just asked her drink poisoned Kool-Aid. "Not happening."

"I need concrete proof. Your word hasn't proved so trustworthy in the past. You know I'll see it later anyhow, this just saves us both time and energy."

"If you can't take me at my word, then you're welcome to stop talking to me and waste an evening in effort to read the text my mother sent to me to make me smile at my first big night at my new job."

"Was that really so difficult?" he asked, shaking his head in disbelief at her stubbornness.

"Yes, thanks to you," she muttered, not at all placated at his taking her explanation as worthy of closing the matter.

He did fall silent then, and they both began listening to the culmination of Rory and Jack's words. They'd heard the speech so many times in the course of the last few hours, but it took on a whole new life as the crowd reacted and it became part of the social history. Even as they stood there students were tweeting about the experience and in the morning local news sources would be reporting on Jack Kent's stance and promises in regards to education.

Tristan nodded as Jack began his concluding statements. Soon he'd open the floor to a few questions and it would be over. "This is a strong showing, even better than my polling had predicted. Excellent work on the speech," he announced to her as if they'd not just had their previous exchange.

"Excellent work? What is the matter with you?" she asked, still not in the mood to be near him, let alone share a success with him. He hadn't contributed a word to her speech. He was really only on location in case a problem arose. That's how he'd explained his job, to put out fires and anticipate pitfalls for Jack to avoid. In her mind, Tristan was more likely to be an instigator—or at least pull a fire alarm without due cause. Perhaps that was just a hold-over from their youth, but she was certain he was never going bother justifying his actions to her—not in any manner that made sense to her anyhow.

"I was complimenting you," he informed her, annoyed that words of gratitude needed an explanation.

"Yeah, well, don't bother. I can tell it's well received. I'm standing right here. I do know a thing or two about how this works."

He set his jaw. "We have a few more minor speeches in the next two weeks, but then we're leaving on a state-wide whistle-stop tour. We'll be gone for a week, so start making any arrangements you need to."

She shifted to him once again as Jack began answering a question from the crowd. "Are we ever going to have a normal conversation, or is it always going to be you accusing me of undermining you one minute and you appreciating my work the next?"

He let out a deep breath. "If you want me to trust you, you have to give me a reason to," he said at last.

She was taken aback by both his words and his allowance for vulnerability. She hadn't seen that coming. But as fast as it appeared, it was gone. He turned his head and locked his blue eyes with hers.

"Don't do the thing with the tie again. People see you putting your hands on him like that; it's an intimate gesture. It's not appropriate."

She opened her mouth to respond, but she only got out two words before her voice was lost in the thunderous applause of the crowd as Jack waved goodbye. Tristan instantly joined in the ovation, and Rory begrudgingly joined in as well as Jack headed their direction.

"That went well, didn't it?" Jack asked in an upbeat fashion, clearly on a high from his success as Tristan fell into step with him.

"Yeah. It was fucking awesome," Rory muttered under her breath to herself before moving to follow her two companions.

XXXX

Jack was typing on his computer early the next morning when Rory came to stand outside his office, carrying her hefted down shoulder bag and two large containers of coffee in a carrying holder. She steeled herself with a deep, cleansing breath and stepped into his office.

"Coffee?" she asked, holding one cup out to him.

He looked up from his work. "Starbucks?"

She smiled and shook her head. "Better."

"Hand it over, now, good woman," he implored her, taking it and instantly bringing it up to his lips. "That's incredible. Did you make this?"

She shook her head with a smile. "No, my mom's boyfriend did. My mom came by early this morning to drop off some of my suits she'd altered for me and she brought the good stuff from Stars Hollow. He runs a diner in town."

Jack took another drink. "Maybe we should add a stop there."

Rory did her best to imagine Jack or Tristan mixing with the locals in her hometown. She frowned in consternation. "I'm not sure that's a great idea. The high school auditorium is the largest venue they have, and I'm not sure it's large enough to contain the kind of crowds you command."

He laughed. "It was an impressive turnout last night. I'll do my best not to let it go to my head. I'm fully aware that every single vote counts."

She nodded. "Right. A good outlook for a candidate," she said before clearing her throat. "I just wanted to let you know that I'm sorry if I did something inappropriate last night. Tristan already talked to me about it, but I just wanted to touch base with you, too. I'd feel awful if I ever did anything to cost you votes. The state needs you, and I intend on doing everything in my power to get you elected."

Jack sat back, confused. "I appreciate that, but what exactly did Tristan think you needed to apologize for?"

Rory waved her hand aimlessly in the air. "Oh, you know, my doing your tie for you. I did it automatically. You asked and suddenly I was on autopilot. Tristan made it sound like I was sexually harassing you, which I know is blowing it out of proportion in a way that only he can, but if it was awkward or in any way inappropriate, I just wanted to clear things with you."

He stood up and moved to the other side of the desk, to sit next to her. "You did nothing at all untoward. I asked you about the tie. Tristan tends to brace for the worst way that any scenario can play out, which can be a blessing and a curse. It makes him a great campaign manager, but I'm afraid it makes him difficult in every other situation," he consented. "I'm sure you read about what happened with his dad," he led.

Rory stared down at the lid of her coffee cup. "Just what was in the papers."

She didn't elaborate that she hadn't read any of those articles until the past week, in online archives. The whole scandal and trial had made the papers for months, given the elder Dugrey's position, but she'd been so busy at Yale at the time, with the paper and school work and Logan. Looking back at her life then, she had let Logan take up so much of her attention, to the point it nearly derailed her from everything she'd worked so hard for. She gone so far as to mistake that for a sign that he was worth giving it all up for a short period of time. Now she didn't have the career that she'd worked for so diligently or the one man that made her reconsider it all.

"I shouldn't speak for him like this, but we all work very closely around here. I don't want you taking his outlook for a personal issue with you. Do you want me to speak with him?"

Rory shook her head assuredly. "No, that's not necessary… I can handle anything Tristan throws my way. I'm not here to complain about him in any manner. In fact, other than having too much tunnel vision at times, I can see perfectly why you chose him. I just wanted to make sure that there wasn't any miscommunication between the two of us."

Jack smiled easily. "Not at all. Now, was there anything else, or were you just spoiling me by bringing me this coffee that will surely ruin me for all other brews?"

Rory put her hand against the side of her bag. "Well, I do have some ideas to pitch, see how they fit into your platform. I've read up what's been put into place so far, but I think we can reach more people with some simple break downs and the use of social media to get people informed on a budget. But they can wait until Tristan gets in. What time are you expecting him?"

Jack reached to grab a pen. "No, let's get started. He's taken the day off. We'll dig in and fill him in as needed later."

She sat back, surprised. "Tristan took the day off? That seems … unlike him."

Jack looked up. "Quite. He's only taken two others."

"In the last month?" she inquired.

Jack now shot her a strange look. "No. In the last six."

Rory nodded slowly. "Right. Are you ready to get started now, then?"

XXXX

It had been a long day. She'd worked sixteen hour days in the past, though rarely had they ever blown by so fast and enjoyably as this. She was sitting at a spare desk in the front of the building with a computer, getting a few last things in order before taking off. Jack came through the otherwise empty room from the direction of his office. He stopped to lean on the partition that would separate her from anyone working at the desks near her, had anyone else the insane work ethic she enjoyed.

"Sorry about this. We'll have a proper office set up for you by the end of next week," he knocked on the modular walls.

She glanced up, taking pause from her last-minute typing. "Actually, I kind of like it out here. Reminds me of a newsroom."

"Old habits die hard, huh?" he asked knowingly.

"That they do."

"Don't stay too much longer, okay? I don't want you burning out on me."

"I'm almost done. And I'm enjoying it. More than I thought I would. Sorry, that sounds like a bad thing. I just meant that I owe my grandfather a dinner or a bottle of scotch or something."

Jack continued leaned on the half-wall. "Your grandfather?"

She nodded. "He's the one that told you to call me, right? He got this whole ball rolling," she reminded him. She knew his calendar was full of people, and details that meant something to her personally weren't as lodged his memory as they were in her own.

Jack shook his head. "I asked for that meeting with Richard, to find out more about you. He's not the one that led me your direction."

"Oh. I just assumed, I mean," she began, slightly flustered. Who else would have given her name into consideration? "Do you mind my asking who did lead you my direction?" she posed delicately.

Jack gave a soft laugh. "A few weeks ago, things around here were tense. Everything was moving forward, but we realized that we had to let our speech guy go and we knew it was getting to the point that my appearances were going to be larger, more visible," he explained. "Anyway. I came in one morning, ungodly early. I couldn't sleep so I figured I'd be productive. I get here and I hear laughing, coming from the back."

She listened to his story, noting that he spoke in a way that pulled people in, no matter if he were speaking professionally or just telling a colleague a story. Her grandmother called it presence, what he possessed.

"I go back, happy to hear someone in the place exhibiting signs of joy, no matter the reason, and I follow the source back to Tristan's office. He's lying on his couch, in running shorts and a t-shirt, reading the _Times_."

"He does have a home of his own that he lives at, doesn't he?" she inquired at the description.

Jack nodded. "I assume so, but you know Tristan. Cagey about anything remotely personal. Anyhow, I asked him what was so funny in the _Times_—a market crash that affected our opponent's backers or _Marmaduke_, or what," he continued. "He stands up, folds the paper over, and puts in on my chest. Tells me to read the Op-Ed piece. He leaves and whatever he did between then and returning to the office, I don't know, but he was back in a suit and was all business."

"What was the Op-Ed piece?" she asked, having more than an inkling she knew that article word-for-word.

He nodded at her. "Pardon me for not remembering the title," he held a hand out to her graciously, "but the gist was the merits of the underground movement in England to elect Ricky Gervais as the next Prime Minister."

She smiled proudly, though she cast her eyes down in a show of humility. Several larger papers had picked up that piece—several internationally as well. "It was just a fun idea I had. I had no idea I'd get so much attention for it. He sent me an email," she admitted, referring to the object of her article.

"Oh, yeah?"

She nodded again. "Yeah. I had it framed in my office. And by office, I mean my cubicle that makes this space look like Grand Central Station," she impressed upon him her satisfaction.

"I'm still getting you a real wall to hang it on. You can work wherever you want as long as you keep up the way you've been going."

She nodded, thankful for his praise. "So, Tristan really pointed you my direction?"

He hesitated. "He gave me the article. I asked him what he knew about you, if you'd be a good fit, when he got back that morning. I'd pulled your name through the computer to see what else you'd written and realized the possibilities. His words led me to believe that you'd be a great fit, but that we couldn't get you."

"You never do take no for an answer, do you?" Rory asked.

He shook his head. "Your surname sparked my memory, and the moment I knew I was right, I called Richard to see if you were happy in New York or if he thought it was worth my time to meet with you."

"Well," she said, her head swimming with the information he'd imparted. "I'll probably still take my grandfather a bottle of scotch. His birthday's coming up."

Jack nodded. "Hit the lights, will you?"

"I'll be five more minutes, tops," she promised as he bid her a good evening though it was long since night. She only had a few steps to walk to get to her building, and within the half hour she'd made it home, rifled through her new mail, and had changed out of her suit. It was a quarter to midnight when her doorbell rang. She looked up from her curled up position on the couch, halfway through a novel.

Good sense told her not to open the door at all given the hour, but curiosity led her to check the peep hole in the door. Once again, Tristan Dugrey stood on the other side of her door, again in a suit and jacket. But for once, he didn't appear on the hunt. Agenda was washed from his features.

She opened the door, leaning against one side as if to alert him to her fatigue given the late hour. Her hand clasped her other arm and she rested them both against one hip. "I'm out of pizza."

He gave the faintest form of a smile. It never really reached his eyes. It was a pity, she thought. "You think I'm that predictable?"

She tightened her arms to her body. "I can't imagine what else would bring you to darken my doorstep at this hour."

He frowned. "What time is it?"

Something in his voice gave her concern. Not for herself, but for him. It struck her with a desire to put her hand on his or press her wrist against his forehead, just to assess his physical state. She held back on both accounts and simply gave him the time. "It's nearly midnight."

He drew a hand over his face. "Shit, I didn't realize. Did I wake you?"

She didn't take her eyes off his face. "No. I just got back. Is there a problem?"

"I was going to take a walk. Do you want to take a walk?" he asked, not dissuaded by the hour apparently. She remembered Jack's words, from him telling her that Tristan so seldom takes days off to his being responsible in whatever way for her new career track. The thought of this man enjoying her article and sharing it—that was meaningful in a way to her that she so rarely got to revel in.

"Let me get my jacket," she said, leaving her door open as she moved to grab her coat and keys before joining him in the hall. He'd had no problem barging into her apartment before, but this time he remained on the smooth tile of the hall.

"Were you stopping by work?" she asked once they hit the sidewalk outside, assuming he hadn't just intentionally come this way for her company.

"No, I was coming home. I live across the street," he said, motioning to another residential building across the intersection.

"Oh," she said, not sure what else to say. They walked in silence for another minute.

"It's not as nice as your place, but like you said, it's close to work."

"I have a daybed," she said suddenly, then felt foolish for bringing it up. Her natural response was to explain her outburst. It amounted to an uncontrolled verbal snowball, gaining speed and size down a hill. "In my guest room. It's an office, but it also has a guest bed. Not that you need it, of course," she said, hating herself for not being able to control the words coming out of her mouth.

"Have you explored the neighborhood much?" he asked, either not listening or not minding her strange turn of conversation.

"At this hour? Can't say I have."

"There's a diner a few blocks over, they serve all night. Are you hungry? I haven't eaten all day."

She nodded. "I can usually eat."

He steered them down the block. "Let's go there."

The diner was lit with fluorescents, which would have been too jarring at that time of night if a few of the bulbs didn't need replacing. They sat in the back and were handed two menus before being left alone.

He never opened his menu. She peered over the top of hers to see him watching her. She closed hers, figuring pancakes were always a safe bet, and met his gaze.

"Jack said you almost never take a day off."

"If you people can't be unsupervised for one day without everything falling to hell, then I'm not doing a very good job anyway," he said honestly.

"Everything went fine. We reorganized your office. I think you'll enjoy the filing system I instituted," she joked, attempting to lighten his mood. It seemed heavier than usual. She'd rather see him irritated with her than like this.

He raised an eyebrow. "Did you take that semester off from Yale because of the boat thing?"

"The boat thing? What happened to grand larceny?" she asked, wondering what kind of mental leap he'd just made. She had no idea if she should be on the defensive or not. He never gave her notice on his shift of moods.

He had a far-off look in his eyes. "That was for a judge to decide, not me."

She wondered if he was waiting for the question that was on her tongue. She could taste it, that's how well formed the words were. But she bit back the urge. He didn't look up to discussing his father. "I took a semester off for the same reason we borrowed the boat."

He furrowed his eyebrows. "And what was that?"

She studied him. Outwardly he was no different than the man that had lectured her on keeping her professional and personal lives separate since walking into Jack's headquarters. Still, there was something underlying in his disposition that made her want to answer him. "I had a crisis of faith."

"Yale can do that to you," he said from experience, but she wasn't in the mood to swap stories of Bulldog pride.

"What about Princeton?" she asked, inquiring about the first part of his Ivy League education.

"Princeton was a cake walk," he mused.

"I'm sure," she shook her head at his aloofness. "Anyway, Yale didn't do it to me. Yale ended up being the best thing that ever happened to me. At least, once I'd gone back."

"So, why did you leave?" he asked in all seriousness. Maybe he didn't know her well, but he thought he understood her. But even those who knew her best hadn't understood her actions through that period of her life.

She shook her head. It's not that she was ashamed any longer; in a way, it had made her stronger. Actually, in a host of ways it had made her much stronger. "I had an internship with Mitchum Huntzberger," she finally said.

"Ah. Nepotism at play," he said with air of familiarity. "The rich people's fall back."

"It was no favor he intended," she assured him. "He never wanted to encourage my aspirations. In fact, the moment it was through, he told me I was wasting my time and energy in journalism."

Tristan frowned in disbelief. "And you were dating his son at the time?"

She nodded. "That's why he did it. The family didn't want any wife of Logan's working. Certainly not one more ambitious than he in the print media world."

Tristan took in her meaning instantly. "He proposed."

She prayed for the waitress to return at that moment and provide even a minimal distraction or reprieve. That memory she wasn't sure she was ever going to find easy to recall, at least not without a modicum of pain. Turning Logan down might have been the right decision, but that knowledge hadn't made it any easier to enact. "He hadn't then."

Tristan was watching her so intently, she was afraid to show any emotion. She wished she had cultivated a better poker face. Logan had been a point of contention between the two of them so much already, and she didn't want to give him extra ammunition for when he was feeling back to his normal self. It was only a matter of time. "But he did eventually, right?"

She nodded carefully, though she wasn't inclined to fill him in on missing elements of her past so readily, given the nature of how he'd found out the rest. "What makes you so certain of that, though? Something your investigator turned up?"

He shook his head with that sad grin. "No. I just assumed that any man who was with you for as long as he was, that if he was smart he'd come to the point where he realized that in order to keep you in his life, he'd want to marry you."

"Oh," she said, not sure how to take his last assumption. "Well, yes, he did. Want to marry me."

He nodded. "I was at a funeral today."

She looked up sharply. "Someone close to you?"

He shrugged. "My grandmother. My father's mother. I hate funerals. Almost as much as I hate weddings."

"Are you drunk?' she asked suddenly.

He smiled again. "No. I was with my family all day, and I had a few drinks to compensate for the pleasure of their company. My family, it's complicated," he explained in an insufficient manner, but somehow, it was enough.

"Most are. Were you close to your grandmother?" she asked.

"She and I disagreed about things, but I loved her. She and my grandfather had been married fifty-nine years."

"That's a long time," she said in admiration. "Unusual these days, to be certain."

"People had different views on family back then."

"They approached marriage with a better work ethic," she agreed. "Most people these days make decisions based on what they feel in the moment, not on what they're going to want in a few years—let alone in sixty."

Tristan didn't argue. "Is that why you didn't get married?"

She felt a shock of sadness. "It just wasn't right. What about you?"

"I thought we wanted the same things. After we got married it became very clear to me that I'd been mistaken. Maybe I'm partially to blame for some of what happened, but there are some things you can't look away from or get through. So now we're not married anymore."

The waitress came then, taking their order and filling up their coffee cups. She added as much sugar and cream as she could to cover the taste. He pushed the coffee aside and took a drink of water.

"Isn't it kind of late for coffee?" he asked.

"I'm going to pretend I never heard you ask that," she said before taking a sip. She made a face, but took another sip. "It's better than what's at the office."

"Are you happy?" he asked, leaning his head against one hand.

"With the job?" she asked knowingly. It struck her that she's seem him like this before. They'd ended up kissing that night. Suddenly the constant focus on keeping their interactions based on work seemed safe—not to mention smart. She was finding it difficult to keep her distance with his guard down. She knew she was divulging too much and hoped she wouldn't live to regret it. "It's great. I can only hope Jack's pleased at his selection."

"He's your biggest fan," he said. "He sure as hell wasn't going to give up until he got you."

Rory felt her chest constrict at his words. There was something about the way both he and Jack had phrased it; having to work for her attention. Why had Tristan thought it would be such a feat? Her fingers wound around the cup in front of her, the heat of the ceramic seeping into her skin. "Tristan," she began.

"Don't worry, he's one of the good guys. You didn't give up your life in New York for nothing."

She nodded. "No, I know. I didn't expect… well, anything that came with being offered this job. I never would have seen myself in Hartford, on a campaign, with," she stopped herself before she went any further. He was staring at her as they walked this strange line between shop talk and conveying something more.

"Jack," he supplied, as if she'd forgotten his name.

"Right. Jack," she agreed hastily.

"Listen, it's late. Let me walk you home."

"What about our food?" she asked, though she'd started to wonder if they'd get served before the sun dawned.

He stood up and shrugged his coat back on, throwing money down on the table. "It's terrible anyway."

She stood next to him, collecting her own coat. "Then why do you come here?"

He thought about it for a beat. "It's always quiet."

"You're kind of strange," she said at last.

He smiled. "I appreciate the company. I know you had no reason to join me."

"You freaked me out. Not to encourage you to be an ass, but I'm sort of used to you being confident and, well," she hesitated in kicking him when he was not just low, but tolerable. He held the door open for her as she exited ahead of him.

"So this is purely pity," he said as they walked along next to one another on the mostly empty sidewalk.

She smiled. "Naturally."

"You know, I think I like you better as a reformed felon," he announced as they arrived at her destination.

"Oh, yeah?" she smiled, charmed. It was the first time anyone other than Logan and his friends had complimented her on her errant ways. And when they'd done it, it had been too fresh. She'd been scared, embarrassed—she hadn't wanted extra attention heaped on what she thought would be her biggest regret. Right then, though, standing on the street with Tristan it didn't seem so bad. "Is it just because you enjoy having leverage over me?"

He stopped as they stood at the street entrance of her apartment building, between her and the door. He smiled again; she wasn't sure if he was returning the gesture of if her question amused him. Either way, it was nice to see the burden he'd been carrying around dissipate, if just for a little while. "That too," he said without further explanation. It was a habit of his that made her mind race and for a brief moment, it felt like he was flirting with her. Surely that was against his rules, if he frowned on her helping Jack with his tie. "I'll see you in a few hours."

She nodded and took a step to the side of him, to round toward the door. Their coat sleeves brushed and she reached out and placed her hand on his forearm. "You're okay?"

He nodded, though she saw the flash of confusion in his eyes. He stiffened, to the point that she withdrew her hand. "I've been looking out for myself for a long time now. You don't need to worry about me."

She wasn't sure if it was her words or her actions, but something had triggered him to raise his defenses. Whatever that she'd felt, a need for softness of some sort, it was gone. He didn't need anything from her. She'd be smart to remember that. He didn't need to tell her—she could see it in his eyes.

"Of course. I'll see you in the morning. You have a lot to catch up on. While you were away, I was hard at work, being brilliant."

He rolled his eyes and turned to cross the empty street. "I'll be the judge of that."

She put her hand on the door, but watched him retreat down the block on the opposite side of the street. It wasn't worth trying to find the key to getting him to open up to her; what he needed she was in no way equipped to offer. Everything she did seemed to push him the edge anyhow. She wouldn't waste time worrying about him; after all, he had his hard shell to keep him warm on nights like this.


	5. Just Like Romeo and Juliet

Story Title: No Way Back

Chapter Title: Just Like Romeo and Juliet

Description: Rory Gilmore gets tangled up in the other side of politics, but is she prepared to tangle with all it entails? Not if Tristan Dugrey has anything to say about it.

Rating: M—mostly for language.

AN: Miss Lorelai? Fear not! She has more than a mention in this chapter.

"Miss Gilmore?"

Rory turned from her crouched position in the back corner of her new office. The past two weeks had flown by, and though Jack had made good on securing her a private office space it had been formerly used as a storage area, and she'd dropped her phone behind a stack of boxes that lingered and were too heavy for her to push out of her way let alone pick up and permanently move. She had her hand shoved as far as she could reach behind them, but still was a good few inches from her phone.

"How long are your arms?" she asked the intern.

"Um," he frowned, not sure how to respond to such a question.

"Never mind. What's up?" she asked.

"You have a visitor," he informed her. "And she's going from desk to desk out front, asking phone volunteers if they ever get people who perform heavy breathing when they answer their calls in order to get them to hang up."

Rory stood up and hurried to the door. "Crap."

"Do you know this person?" he called after her.

"Yeah, it's probably my mom," she said as she hustled, phone-less, toward the reception area.

She found her mother sitting behind a desk, phone in her hand, set to dial as a volunteer stood next to her. "What are you doing?" Rory inquired warily.

Lorelai beamed. "James here was so kind as to let me make one of his calls for him."

"Is that right?" Rory asked, forcing the smile back from her lips. "You mean one of our trained phone volunteers is going to let you, a woman who takes to singing show tunes to people who won't agree with her, make some calls to constituents about voting for my boss in the next election?"

"Show tunes?" James asked, looking from Rory to Lorelai. Lorelai grinned brilliantly.

"She's partial to _Hello, Dolly!_ but she just got a new copy of _Rent_, after her old one disappeared under mysterious circumstances, so chances are that's what some poor registered voter will hear the second they inform her that they'd uncomfortable with Kent's stance on gay marriage."

"What better than _Rent_? Oh, Luke just took me to see _The Book of Mormon_. There are some catchy, catchy numbers in that. Have you seen it, James?" Lorelai asked.

"Maybe I should just get back to work," James said, which earned him a nod of approval from Rory.

"I think that's best, James," Rory agreed. "You—come with me," she ordered her mother.

"Jeez, you get a fancy title and your own office, and suddenly you order people around, even your own mother? Is your Romeo rubbing off on you?"

Rory frowned as they made their way back to her office. "Can we please, please not call him that? In fact, let's not refer to him at all."

Lorelai made a face, indicating her spike in interest. "Did you two have another spat?"

Rory shut her office door and moved back to try to reach her phone. "Ouch! No, we didn't have a spat. We have a general inability to communicate without it falling apart into a petty, high-school type argument."

"So, he's pretty and you want to jump his bones, but you can't because he's your boss, so you're insulting him to keep him out of reach of your lips?" Lorelai teased her daughter, who was still struggling to reach her phone with her arm, both of which were now obscured by the boxes.

"I don't want to kiss him. Again, I mean."

"You kissed? I know you've been leaving out a lot of details lately, what with your very busy and important life, but surely you could have told me that!"

"I did. Twelve years ago. Come on, move!" she yelled at the boxes.

"Oh. That. What are you doing, by the way?" Lorelai inquired from her stance next to Rory's desk.

"I dropped my phone. The boxes are too heavy to move."

"Looks like you need a better plan. James was too scrawny to lift heavy items. How strong are Romeo's arms?" she raised her eyebrows suggestively.

"I've never noticed," Rory lied, grunting again as she managed to squeeze her arm a fraction of an inch further back toward her phone.

"Sure you haven't," she laughed. "Is he around? I could go out into the hall and start quoting Shakespeare to see how long it takes him to recall his lines and come running to your side."

Rory rolled her eyes. "He never bothered learning them in the first place. And he'd probably have you arrested for loitering."

"I thought you said he had a law degree, not that he was a cop," she corrected.

"He does. But he'd call the cops. I'm sure he has several on his payroll. Oh, crap!" Rory exclaimed as she realized her arm was now stuck.

There was a knock at the door, and Lorelai stepped lightly to open it. There in the doorway stood Tristan, a look of consternation on his face, until he saw Rory, trapped between the wall and the boxes, by her arm.

"Is there a problem in here?" he inquired as he cocked his head to the side.

Rory shook her head.. "Nope. Got everything under control."

Lorelai watched them play cool in front of the other one, despite her daughter's clear need for assistance. Of course, she hadn't run over to Rory's aid either. This little show was far too interesting to watch.

"Do you have those changes we talked about?" he asked, as if she were seated at her desk instead of trapped behind it.

"Yeah, they're," she pointed to the other end of her desk. "Right on the corner there. With the green Post-it."

He stepped past Lorelai and picked up the revisions. He nodded as he skimmed the top sheet and returned his gaze to Rory, who seemed content to wait out his departure rather than ask his assistance.

"Oh, this is Romeo," Lorelai surmised.

He cocked an eyebrow at Rory. "Romeo?"

"He's a character from a play you failed to read in high school," Rory informed him, jogging his memory.

"And you are," he turned to Lorelai after tearing his eyes from Rory.

"Rory's mom, Lorelai. I slaved away on the costume that you never got a chance to wear to the school play."

"Ah. No doubt Paris Geller wrangled you into the position of seamstress for that little production."

"Hey, it wasn't little. It was the first girl-on-girl action ever seen on stage at stuffy old Chilton Academy," Lorelai informed him. This made him swivel to Rory.

"Madeline and Louise?" he asked knowingly.

Rory sighed heavily, wanting to strangle her mother; that is if she'd had use of both of her arms. "Me and Paris."

A small smile tugged at his lips. "Seems I left school a day too early," he mused.

"I think your timing was impeccable, as always," Rory informed him curtly.

"So, what's with her embracing the boxes?" he turned to Lorelai.

"Oh, she dropped her phone back there. They're too heavy to move," she explained simply.

He nodded. "So instead of coming to get some capable of lifting more than fifty pounds, you decided to get your arm stuck. Must be some message you're dying to check."

Rory flushed, but refused to give in to his attempts to rile her. "You should really get on those changes. We leave tomorrow," she informed him.

"As you wish. Lorelai, it was a pleasure," he said with a nod and took his leave.

"Okay, who walked in on whom naked?" Lorelai demanded.

"No one," Rory assured her. "We just have been avoiding each other. Other than when we have to be in the same room, which is admittedly a lot. But he has quit showing up to my apartment unannounced at late hours, so that's something."

"Whoa, he's been coming over after work?"

"Just twice. Once to yell at me, and once," she sighed. "I don't know why he came over the second time. He'd had a family thing and he was all sad; not even sad, just quiet. It was weird. So I took a walk with him and we ordered food that we didn't eat, and then he sort of scurried off in a hurry. We haven't talked about anything other than work since."

Lorelai smiled. "Let me guess; you've convinced yourself that this is a good thing."

"We're coworkers. We shouldn't be having chats about our childhoods in the middle of the night. It makes things… blurry."

"And blurry is bad?" Lorelai checked, not convinced.

"With Tristan? Yes. Do you think you could come and at least pretend to help me free my arm?"

"I could. Or I could go find Romeo and have him use his incredibly muscular arms and very capable hands to move these boxes out of your way, freeing your arm and possibly even allowing you get the feeling back in it before you leave in the morning."

"He's not that good looking," Rory huffed.

"Interesting. I never said anything about his being good looking. I just insinuated that he had a great body."

"You more than insinuated. You were practically drooling. Boxes, please?"

"On a couple of conditions," Lorelai mused.

"I'm your only daughter. What if one of these boxes falls and crushes me?"

"Please. If we could get them to fall, you wouldn't be stuck in the first place."

"I'd argue, but you see, I can't move."

"First, admit that you are attracted to Romeo."

"Mom, he's my coworker."

"Whom you've kissed. So you can't possibly find him repulsive. Unless he's a bad kisser. Too much tongue? Not enough?"

Rory groaned and made to bang her head into the bottom box for effect. "It was… fine. He's moderately good looking, okay?"

Lorelai rolled her eyes. "Please; if this was ancient Greece, there would be stone statues immortalizing him all over the place."

"Why are you early again?" Rory asked. "We were supposed to meet later, at my apartment."

Lorelai smiled. "I wanted to see where you worked."

"Is there another demand? My arm is starting to hurt."

"Oh, right. Second, and lastly, were you reading another dirty text from Logan when the phone flew out of your hand and behind the boxes?"

"There have been no more dirty texts. I was trying to toss it into my purse, but it went too far. It might be broken, which would suck, because I need to finish up here and go home and pack, which I haven't had time to start, and I need to run a couple of other errands, so I don't have time to go buy a new phone and have all my contacts transferred and still get a full eight hours of sleep in my own bed before having to live on a train for a full week."

"I've always wanted to go on a long train ride. Like _Murder on the Orient Express_," she offered.

Rory screwed up her face. "I hope not. Murder isn't the kind of association you want made with an election."

"Right. Okay, let me try to free you," Lorelai said as she moved over her daughter and attempted without success to push the stacked rows of boxes further away from the wall. She then tried to lift the top box, which also refused to budge.

She peered down at Rory, who was seated underneath her on the floor. "Apparently I need to join a gym, or at least do something more than putting the cookies on the high shelf for a workout routine. Luke's up in Maine with Liz, or I'd call him. I think Romeo's your best bet."

"Crap. Fine," Rory relented. "But I'm not asking him for help. You like him so much, you do it."

"You're so sensitive," she drawled. "If I didn't know better I'd swear you two were having a secret affair and just trying to throw everyone off track by pretending to hate each other."

"Arm stuck. Go," Rory shooed her mother with her free hand.

"Fine," she said and halted as she opened the door to find yet another man in the hall. "You're Jack Kent!"

He peered around Lorelai to look for Rory. Rory waved her arm up in the air. "Jack, I'd like you to meet my mother."

"Nice to meet you," he smiled briefly and shook her hand. "Are you okay?" he asked Rory.

"She's stuck. You look strong; how much can you bench press?" Lorelai asked.

"This is more about leverage than anything else," Rory corrected.

"All I know is you're supposed to bend and lift with your knees, but that didn't work out so well for me when I tried," she shrugged.

"Should I ask how you got in this position?" Jack asked Rory, now standing where Lorelai had been and moving the first box off to the side away from her.

"I dropped my phone. I called Slater and Associates about the ad we're going to run and make sure it coincides with the fundraiser, and it's all set up like we wanted. I tossed my phone to my purse after that and, well," she motioned to her stuck arm.

"Makes perfect sense," Jack humored her, removing the second to last box before shoving the last one way, freeing her and her phone from the cardboard prison.

"You're too kind," Rory cleared her throat. "Well, that wasn't at all embarrassing."

"Don't worry about it. We're all about to live together for a week on a train. Think of it as a training exercise. These things always make adults relive their camp experiences; I'm sure there's some sort of psychological phenomena that explains the behavior. Someone will do something far more embarrassing than this," he assured her.

"And you agreed to this trip willingly?" Rory asked.

"It's good to shake things up. Including my staff," he assured her. "Lorelai, it was a pleasure. If you two will excuse me, I have several thousand briefings to go over thanks to our Mr. Dugrey and his incessant over planning. He's going to get me elected or bury me in busywork trying."

Lorelai watched him leave, shutting the door to give the pair their privacy now that they were both able-bodied again. "Now he's gorgeous."

"Again, he's my boss. But he does possess certain characteristics that make him appealing to the opposite sex," Rory consented. It did her well to throw her mother a bone now and then and agree with her outright. Or in a roundabout fashion, as it were.

"So why was Romeo—sorry, Tristan," she amended, holding up her hands in defeat, "sad? Or did you say he was just weird the night he came over?"

"He just… he'd been to a funeral. And he asked me if I wanted to take a walk, at midnight. So I went with him because he didn't seem like he should be alone, and he didn't talk about his family at all, which I assume was on his mind, given how he spent his day. He just asked me about my taking time off Yale and if Logan proposed to me."

Lorelai pressed her lips together to refrain from saying what she was thinking. She took a minute to regroup. "And then what happened?"

Rory shrugged. "Nothing, really. He walked me home, and I asked if he was okay, and he got all stoic and tense, said he didn't need anyone to be okay, and then he left."

"And you haven't spoken in about a non-work-related manner since?"

Rory shook her head. "There's been no reason to. He's fine, and I'm fine. We're fine. We're working, and there's so much to be done before we leave. It is what it is."

Lorelai eyed her daughter. "And you aren't at all curious about his family situation?"

Rory shrugged. "I know the basics. His grandfather's a retired judge. His dad was a judge, until that scandal with him taking bribes broke, and he went to jail. I imagine that scandal alone is enough to put tension in family functions. Add the fact that Tristan's divorced on top of it," she added. "If there's more to the story he sure hasn't felt like opening up to me about it."

"So, he's single."

"So not the point of what I just said," Rory sighed.

"I can read between the lines just fine, thank you very much."

"I'm sure that's one boring read," Rory shot back.

Lorelai shook her head. "I just think you're too close to see what's really going on here."

"Which is?" Rory asked, though she told herself she didn't want to hear Lorelai's postulations.

"That men only ever show up at a woman's place in the middle of the night for one purpose."

Rory crossed her arms. "We are not having sex. We can't even have a civil conversation most of the time."

Lorelai smiled. "It's hard to talk when all you want to do is make out."

"You're worse than he used to be when we were sixteen. I will say this one more time. I am not kissing Tristan. Again," she amended yet another time.

"Whatever you say. Though I do believe that you are really done with Logan," she offered by way of support.

"Because my telling you that things were really over wasn't convincing enough?" Rory asked.

"It would be more convincing if you didn't tell me that you had no interest in men that look like Tristan, who in turn look at you like they want to get you alone in a locked room and do unspeakable things to you—the kind of things that you'd be too embarrassed to tell me about. And since you told me about sexting with Logan, I figure the bar is pretty high."

Rory blinked at her mother. "I think I'll just make it a general rule not to discuss my sex life with you again."

"You say that now, but you'll come running back the moment Romeo does something to make your knees turn to jelly and you're all torn about if you should allow yourself to be happy even if it means getting involved with someone you work with."

"Tristan doesn't have any effect on my knees. I think you're just bracing for problems I will not be facing."

"You keep telling yourself that. Maybe I'm wrong; maybe your knees are safe. Come on, let's go get you packed for your trip," she nodded toward the door.

Rory put her phone and a few files into her purse and shut down her computer. "Anything to get you to stop talking about Tristan. Or worse, talking to him."

"Oh, Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?" Lorelai teased as they took their leave of the election headquarters.

XXXX

Rory had gotten up fifteen minutes earlier than necessary, to make sure she had enough time to get coffee before driving to meet the train. She had her bag carefully packed, after negating all the essentials that Lorelai insisted might be important to have just in case, such as a nice set of matching underwear, her knee-high boots, and a rain jacket. Her reasoning was that if she was in a train wreck, she would want to have cute underwear for when the doctors had to cut off her clothes; the boots were for if she realized she brought a short skirt instead of a longer skirt and needed to cover with a great pair of footwear, and the rain jacket was for in case she got left on the platform and it started to rain as the train whistle blew, like only occurred in a movie. Then she'd be stranded, but not nearly as soaked.

Hoping that she wouldn't require emergency medical attention or be left behind at any stop, she figured she would be fine with a spare change of less bulky shoes if she was careful in her outfit selection. With everything in her bag and purse, all she needed was to make sure she had her extra battery for her laptop before hauling everything down to her car. She was just about to grab her car keys when she heard a knock at her door. With a wary expression, she opened the door.

"What are you doing here? It's four forty-five in the morning."

Tristan scoffed. "And we need to get going or we'll be late."

"If you needed a ride, you could have arranged it before now!" she exclaimed.

"Where are the rest of your bags?" he inquired, ignoring her.

She looked down to her modest haul. "That's it. Why?"

He shook his head. "No reason. I've just never travelled with a woman who didn't travel with an entire luggage set that required two bellhops to manage."

"Well, you've never travelled with me," she put her hand on her hip. "I've never even owned matching luggage."

"But you do own a Birkin," he said, noting the handbag she'd chosen to take with her.

"It was a gift," she defended. "And it fits the most files. I need my work; this isn't a pleasure trip."

He stood there, in her living room, just watching her. She shifted under his gaze. "No quippy comeback?"

"Nope. Just another reminder that we need to leave, if you want coffee. And you want coffee," he said, moving to take her largest bag.

"What are you doing?" she yelped.

"I'm carrying your bag to my car," he said slowly, as if she should have known better.

"Why are we taking your car? I never said anything about going in your car."

He sighed. "Do you have to be this difficult? I'm suggesting we carpool, not that you be my getaway driver. I understand that sometimes you need an illicit thrill, but we have work to do."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "I have no desire to do anything illicit—especially not with you."

He raised his eyebrow knowingly. "I forgot. Rich blondes aren't your type."

It was way too early and she was much too deprived of caffeine to deal with this side of him; or possibly him at all. "Get out."

"I'm just waiting on you," he stood still, not bothered at all by her dismissal.

"Clearly you don't enjoy being around me any more than you have to, what on earth prompted you to come here and share a ride to the train? We're going to be stuck in close enough quarters for a week as it is," she wondered aloud.

"It was Jack's idea," he said evenly.

She frowned. "What?"

"He said you hurt your arm and you might need some assistance with your bags. I assume he was under the impression you'd have more of them."

"My arm is fine. My phone, however, is cracked."

He nodded, growing more openly frustrated. "Why didn't you tell me you needed help in your office?"

"For the same reason you didn't offer, I would imagine."

They stood there staring, having reached some sort of stalemate. "Can we just pretend that we can stand to be in the same place for long enough to get to the train? I promised Jack, and I keep my word. Even when it's not easy to keep. This is my final offer—you come with me now without another protest, and I will buy you the biggest coffee of your choice on the way. Once we get there, you can retreat to the furthest car from me."

She considered the offer. It would allow her to keep her car in the safety of the building's garage instead of the public lot. It wasn't as if he was doing her any favors in his mind; he was simply fulfilling a promise to Jack. "Fine. Let's go."

"Finally," he muttered as she gathered the rest of her stuff and they left her apartment in search of his car.

XXXX

Getting far away from Tristan was proving much more difficult than she's anticipated. The train tour had been set up before Rory's employment, therefore roommate assignments had been in place and her addition had been managed by giving her the only open spot—the one that had belonged to her predecessor.

"There must be somewhere else I can sleep," Rory protested as she stood in the tight opening to the sleeper unit to which she had been assigned.

"It's not like I snore," Tristan informed her from his bottom bunk. He was leaned up in a semi-reclining position, reading the newspaper. He didn't look up from the publication to observe her outrage. His hearing was just fine.

"Did you know about this?" she demanded.

"Do you mean did I bribe someone so I could have the pleasure of sleeping underneath you?" he asked, finally laying the paper on his lap to consider her in her displeasure.

She hadn't even finished her coffee yet. She had figured this trip would be grueling, with long hours and lots of public appearances, not to mention trying to perform at top speed while getting poor sleep due to less than preferable sleeping accommodations. She never was able to sleep in a moving vehicle very well—be it planes, trains, or automobiles.

"Where's Jack?" she demanded.

"Jack is busy. And he didn't set up the room arrangements. He handed that off to an aid, because he knows how to delegate. Just put your stuff down and finish your coffee. You don't mind being on top, do you?" he asked, baiting her.

"Oh my God!" she huffed as she tossed her bags in and turned back out into the hallway, off to finish her coffee anywhere but in that room.

She walked down the tight corridor, built for only one person to walk at a time, ignoring all the staff that was getting situated in their assigned rooms. Everyone else was paired with same sex roommates, just like camp, she noted, just as Jack had said. She knew it was just an oversight; someone not paying attention and filling her in the only hole that they had. But this had to be a sick joke. She was not going to last in something the size of a tuna can for a week with Tristan. Where would she get dressed? The tiny bathroom in which the shower shared space with the toilet? The train whistle blew and she knew she needed to find a seat before the motion began. She was already feeling a little queasy and she refused to take notice of her knees slight instability. She entered the dining car and tossed her Birkin onto the table before sliding onto the bench seat. No one else had come in yet, and she closed her eyes as she took a sip of her coffee. She put the cup on the table and tried to imagine things going smoothly. Maybe she and Tristan would learn to be cordial, out of necessity. She wasn't delusional—she wasn't hoping to become his best friend, but there was a slim possibility that they could avoid bloodshed. She bounced a little on the hard plastic of the bench and wondered if she could just sleep there in the dining car.

She blew out a breath of resignation and reached into her bag. She pulled out her phone with the cracked case. It was still functional—at least it would last her the week until she had time to go get a replacement. She thought of calling her mom, but realized it was six in the morning on a Saturday, and she didn't want to deal with a groggy, irate person. If she wanted to do that, she could return to her room. Before she could replace the phone into her bag, she saw that she had a notification for a new text message. Probably just her mom, before she went to bed last night, wishing her luck, she reasoned. Except that she'd checked her phone when she got up earlier that morning and there'd been no such message then. Maybe it was from Jack, giving her a heads up that Tristan was going to show up at her place. He was considerate, after all, and probably would have given her notice of what he thought was a good deed. The trouble was, even when Tristan was doing something nice for her, he did it with an air of superiority that infuriated her.

She opened the message and froze upon seeing the sender. Instantly she was torn between wanting to read the words and knowing that she should head back and inform Tristan of the communication. The only thing that stopped her was that at the moment she had no fight left in her. She'd have to defend herself, for something she hadn't instigated, and it was getting old. She never promised to not read any new messages, anyhow. She just promised to let him know before he found out himself. And she was pretty sure that he was still just hanging out, reading the paper in their room. She held the phone up and read.

Suddenly, she had plenty of fight in her. Fury raced through her veins and she could not stop her feet from racing out of the dining car and retracing the path through the narrow corridors until she got to her room, the door to which was still open. Her sudden appearance seemed to surprise him, as he lifted his head to acknowledge her immediately. But the anger in her eyes made him rethink his strategy of glibly asking if she were ready to agree to sleep with him. He even put his paper aside.

"How could you? I mean, I know you think you can do whatever the hell you want without caring about the ramifications you have on people's lives, as long as it's in your best interest," she began, seething.

"Shut the door," he instructed, standing up, managing to grab her wrist to pull her gently but abruptly into the car with one hand as he pulled the door closed with his other.

"What makes you think you can just say whatever the hell you want to anyone, just to do your bidding? I did what you asked. I broke things off with Logan for the good of the campaign, even though you know he had no ties to his father's money. You had no right to say anything to him. He hadn't contacted me again."

"Hadn't?" his voice hardened.

"You heard me," she crossed her arms, not willing to back down just because he was getting angry. Let him get as angry as she was, it served him right. After all, he was the one that had stepped out of line this time, not her. "I'm sorry, was I not clear? Logan texted me, at 6:02am, which probably means that he got home late, as it was only just after three on his time, and when he goes out, he tends to close down places—he's known for having a good time."

"Rory," Tristan began, his jaw clenched.

"No, I'm not done. You wanted to hear all about the next time Logan texted me, so let me finish," she said, taking a step closer to him as the train continued over the tracks underneath them. When Tristan said nothing, she continued. "I'm assuming he was drunk, but you'd be amazed the details he's able to recall when he's drunk. Not to mention, he has no reason to lie to me about this."

"No reason to lie? Wanting you back would be a pretty damn good reason to lie."

"If Logan wanted me back, he'd probably have me," she spat out at him. "He wouldn't have informed me that he was sorry for showing up unannounced in New York; and that he would have never come had he known he was stepping on someone else's toes."

Tristan shook his head. "Don't think this is more than it is. I was simply making sure that he knew better than to come sniffing around again."

"By pretending to be my jealous boyfriend?" she demanded. "What would possess you to even call him? I would understand if he hadn't taken no for an answer, but clearly he's over me. I haven't contacted him; your precious candidate is safe from the evil Huntzbergers and all their money."

"I don't like to take chances," he began, his tone only slightly calmer than it had been, but it was much less hostile than hers. "You told me yourself, he proposed to you."

"Not recently! God, that was years ago, Tristan. And I turned him down then."

"Which means he probably thought this was his second chance; that maybe this time your answer would be yes," he reasoned.

"There is no way he would ever propose again. He was pretty clear the first time that since I wasn't interested right then and there, he was done."

Tristan narrowed his eyes in confusion. "What?"

Rory let a breath out, with much of her steam going with it. "When I said I wasn't ready to marry him, he broke up with me. He moved to California, and I didn't hear from him for years. When we ran into each other, it was made very clear that it wasn't about trying again. It was just about sex."

She met his eyes a good thirty seconds after she finished her explanation. He was just standing there, staring at her, showing no emotion. She'd known it was foolish to let her guard down that night in the diner. Not only had he used it against her, but he'd gone too far with it. Way too far.

"You'd be surprised how many people confuse good sex for love. People get married based on much less," he said roughly.

"It's not your place to decide that for me, even if I was confused about his intentions!" she yelled at him. "And what if this was our second chance, and I had an opportunity to be happy with him? I gave it up, for this job—can't you just be happy you won and leave it the hell alone?"

"God, listen to you. I knew you were naïve, but I did you a favor. Now he knows it's over and so do you. You know what your problem is? If it's not perfect, straight out of_ Romeo and Juliet,_ you aren't willing to take the chance. What is it this guy wouldn't give you? From the sounds of it, the sex was pretty damn good. He was rich, and I'm sure he gave you everything you could ever want. But that wasn't good enough for you, was it?"

She was so angry she was having trouble seeing straight. "Just because you were married doesn't mean you know what it takes to make a marriage work. Don't you dare put your problems on me. I don't know why your marriage didn't last, but I didn't lead Logan on. I wasn't ready, and I told him that. End of story. Whatever your problems are, they have nothing to do with me, and it's not your place to intervene in my personal life. Start acting like you know that. I don't need you to do me any favors. From now on, my personal life is off limits," she said, moving to the door.

"Where are you going?" he managed, her words hitting him a little too close to home.

"To find somewhere else to sleep," she said as she slammed the door behind her and stormed off. She made it half the length of the sleeper car before Jack stepped out of his room.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked, touching her lightly on the shoulder.

"I'm fine. I just, need to take a walk. I realize that's not the easiest thing to do on a train, but I needed to clear my head. I need," she babbled, feeling an overload of emotions she'd failed to deal with bubbling up.

Jack nodded, looking down each side of the hall. "I know what you need. Follow me," he said, leading her down a few feet and opening the door into his room. Rory took a deep breath and stepped into Jack's room.


	6. What Lorelai Would Do

Story Title: No Way Back

Chapter Title: What Lorelai Would Do

Description: Rory Gilmore gets tangled up in the other side of politics, but is she prepared to tangle with all it entails? Not if Tristan Dugrey has anything to say about it.

Rating: M

AN: Not much to add. There are some notes on my LJ in regard to this fic. As always, I'm very appreciative of the reviews and how into the storyline you all seem to be. Happy reading!

Rory stood next to the window as Jack shut his door. She was still reeling from her confrontation with Tristan. She couldn't imagine Jack possessed anything that could help her come to terms with the audacity of Tristan's most recent overstepping in the name of his job. She attempted to collect herself as Jack pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to her.

She took it and read over the email on the screen. She smiled with genuine pride as she looked up at him. "That's a pretty big endorsement."

He smiled wider. "It's not the only one. Read the next email."

She pulled up the next email and her eyes got wider. "Wow. Both Clintons," she said with the proper amount of awe.

"Yeah. They don't like to go in joint on anything. It's very much a his-and-hers arrangement they have going on."

"Well, I can't blame her," Rory mused, then handed Jack his phone back. "I mean, it's pretty smart of her to have her own life, separate from his in every way, even if he didn't have the reputation he's earned."

He put his phone away and crossed his arms. "Not a stand behind your man type of gal, are you?" he asked with some level of amusement.

"Apparently not," she sighed. She'd certainly never felt the urge to defer to a man before, though that the avenue had been available to her in the past. She found it difficult to fathom, with her role models and aspirations.

He sat down on the edge of his made bed. "You want to talk about it?"

She shook her head. "No. I mean, I'm just letting stupid things get to me. Things that don't matter. It's just that ever since Tristan showed up at my apartment early this morning, things have gone from bad to worse on the unexpected surprises scale," she admitted, tensing her hands into fists at her sides. Thinking better of complaining at his attempt to help her, she added, "Not that I don't appreciate your thinking of me."

Jack frowned. "My thinking of you?"

She hesitated. "Sending Tristan to pick me up?"

He continued to look confused. "Why would I send Tristan to pick you up?"

"He said it was because you thought my arm was hurt, and I assumed you knew we lived across the street from each other."

He shook his head with the hint of a smile. "Wasn't my idea. I did tell him your arm was probably going to be sore, but that's all I said. Is your arm okay?"

She groaned, mad at herself for blindly believing Tristan yet again. What he had to gain from picking her up or lying about the reason for doing so was beyond her. It obviously wasn't for the pleasure of her company. "It's fine. I can't believe this. Everything he says to me, he's either lying or trying to get information to use against me."

"I doubt that's the case; you are on our team, after all," Jack reasoned, sure of where Tristan's loyalties lay.

Rory sat and turned to Jack. "Was it that detrimental, my having a relationship with Logan Huntzberger?"

He paused. "I'm not in the business of getting involved with the personal lives of my staff," he began carefully, "but if he was still financially connected to his father, it wouldn't have looked great for us. But Tristan checked into it, and found no monetary ties, or much of any other ties, between Logan and his family since 2007. Just like you said."

"Then why won't he let it go?" she posed with frustration saturating her voice.

"I'm afraid I don't know. I take it you two didn't exactly see eye-to-eye when you were acquainted before. You knew each other in school, right?"

Rory nodded numbly. She knew she wasn't upset about Logan. She'd exaggerated the extent of what she believed to be possible between them for Tristan, and she wasn't even sure why. She was confident he would fail in feeling ashamed of himself. She just wanted to make him at least consider that what he'd done could have hurt her or jeopardized her future in some way. He could argue his reasoning all he wanted, but it didn't make what he did right in her mind—it just simply wasn't his place. "He was kind of a rich, womanizing jerk."

Jack let out a small laugh. "Well, I guess at least one thing has changed."

Rory frowned at Jack. "And which part would that be?"

Jack didn't have a chance to explain; the knock at the door set off a chain of motion that wouldn't allow Rory to give his words thought for some time. Jack stood, leaving Rory sitting alone on the bed and opened the door to find a very pissed off and tense Tristan waiting for entrance. His demeanor did not improve when he saw Rory sitting on Jack's bed.

"This is where you chose to go to find another place to sleep?" Tristan shot out at her instantly. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"Oh, go to hell," she rolled her eyes, back on the defensive in the blink of an eye.

"Okay, you two, that's enough. I don't know what exactly is going on with you two; the bickering was amusing at first, but now I'm tempted to lock you together in a room until you figure it out."

"Too late for that," Rory muttered, thinking of their sleeping arrangement.

"The only issue I have with her is her inability to take my authority over her seriously," Tristan said, "but we've got much bigger problems than that at the moment," he said ominously.

"What's going on?" Rory asked, realizing he hadn't come by to continue their argument. He'd gone further out of his way to seek out a fight with her, after all, and at this point she'd put nothing past him—but something else had rattled him.

"What's going on is I need to discuss something with Jack. Why don't you go back to our room and get ready to work. We're going to be on crisis management mode until I can put a stop to this."

"A stop to what?" Jack asked, not in the mood to wait.

Tristan hesitated, eying Rory before returning his focus to Jack. "It's Emery. He says he's got something on you, something you tried to cover up, and he's about to go to the press."

"Emery? Your old speech writer?" Rory asked, now stepping up beside Jack, who was face-to-face with Tristan in the small room.

"Isn't he still in rehab?" Jack asked.

"He left early. I'm willing to bet he just found out we weren't sitting around waiting for his return, and now that he's sure he's out of a job, he wants compensation. But before I go to bat, I need to know if there's any truth to what he's saying," he said, his eyes moving back to Rory warily.

"I'll let you two talk," she got the hint and moved to exit.

Rory closed the door and leaned against it for a moment, watching the landscape of Connecticut blur by in the morning light. She could hear the intonations of their voices, low and serious, but she couldn't make out any words. Jack was the most honest man she'd ever met—politician or otherwise. She couldn't fathom that any claim this Emery guy had would be true; and knowing Tristan he'd be able to silence his pitiful attempt for quick cash in a heartbeat regardless.

She had no idea what they were in for, but if Tristan was that concerned she knew it was no small matter, so she went back to her room to get ready for a long day, and possibly straight into the night, of work. She pulled her bags over on the other side of the room from where she'd dumped them in frustration, and set to arranging them neatly before pulling down the top bunk that was to be her bed. Taking advantage of an empty room, she changed into a much more comfortable slacks and blouse, taking care to hang up her dressier suit she'd planned to wear for the speech at the stop they'd be making just before lunch in Greenwich. They had been allotted time to be on the ground there, so Jack could greet the people, mill around, and speak to the media as well. She'd originally imagined that she might get some down time, to eat lunch or do a little window shopping around town, but it was now apparent that she'd be somewhere working on contingency plans should the worst play out with regards to this threat against the campaign—whatever it was.

She placed the other two suits she'd brought with her on the rack next to where Tristan had hung his earlier. She stood back, staring at their comingling clothing. It'd been a long time since she'd shared closet space with a man. She used to go into her closet when Logan was away on a business trip and smell his jackets. It made her feel closer to him, somehow, no matter what the physical distance between them had been, knowing he was always coming back home to her. It was an unconscious reaction as she stepped forward and leaned into one of his suit jackets, inhaling Tristan's scent. Her eyes closed for a moment, but she shook her head and stepped back, confusion overwhelming her. She was staring to realize that Tristan wasn't the only person she couldn't figure out.

She wasn't alone much longer; Tristan opened the door without knocking and joined her. He didn't say anything at first, and she couldn't ascertain his frame of mind. He still didn't look pleased, but now he appeared to have lost some of his forward momentum.

"How bad is it?" she asked. "Not that it matters; I'm sure you can just call this guy's kids and tell them their dad's a drunk and doesn't love them anymore. Isn't that what you do? Hit them where it hurts before they hit us?" she countered.

His eyes flashed at her. "I understand that you hate me. But this is the kind of thing where I need you to show your willingness to put everything else in your life aside and do your job. Can you do that?" he inquired wearily.

"I've been nothing but professional. You're the one that can't stay out of my personal life!" she erupted.

Instead of yelling back, he took a step in closer to her. "How would you feel if someone had tipped me off with those photos of you and Huntzberger, ready to hit the all the national and local media with them? What if I hadn't instructed you to break it off, and they'd managed to get much more intimate photos from his last visit to New York, and they were plastered everywhere, for your family and friends, whom I'm guessing don't know about the nature of your recent arrangement, all to knock Jack down a couple of points in the polls?"

He was in her face now, his voice low. She swallowed hard, the images all too easy to conjure up. She lifted her eyes up to his, taking in his strong shoulders and his rough jaw on the way. He appeared pained, but she read it as just the anticipation of whatever he was going to have to deal with in regard to Jack. "You really want me to believe you were just trying to protect my feelings?"

"It's probably easier for you to think I'm a self-serving ass, but not everything I do is for me. If it were, it wouldn't be Jack's campaign I was working on right now."

"What's that supposed to mean?' she inquired, trying to ignore the feeling it was another of his veiled attempt to open up to her again. But yet again, he closed himself off before she learned anything real about him.

"It doesn't matter. What matters is I'm going to get off the train in Greenwich, rent a car, and go deal with this. We're going right now to set up a war room in the dining car, map out some contingency plans, and you might have to deal with the onslaught before I can meet back up with you tomorrow. My source said he was planning to go to the media, but my guess is he'll choose to wait to unleash it until just before the last stop, before the first bi-partisan debate. It's worth more for him to time this just right," he said with disdain.

"You're leaving me alone? I'm not a crisis management expert! I don't have a background in fending off wild accusations and hungry media dogs," she said, none-too-thrilled at the idea of trying to shield this alone.

"First of all, you're more effective at fending people off than you give yourself credit for," he began, looking at her with an odd expression on his face, "and secondly, you used to be a hungry media dog. I need you to approach this like you would have if you were out there with your press pass when this news hit. I need you to write out responses to questions you know are going to come up, in a way that makes him sound empathetic."

"What about innocent?" she countered.

Tristan shrugged. "We'll work on that. I need more information before I know if we're playing the lying drunk angle or the misrepresentation of facts line."

Rory faltered. "Wait… you don't think Jack's guilty of something, do you? What exactly does this guy think he has on Jack?"

Tristan raked his bottom lip with his teeth and shoved his hands in his pockets. "He claims he intercepted a call when he was working for Jack a few months back, and that the caller was a man that identified himself as the uncle of Jack's kid."

Now Rory felt completely lost. "Jack has a kid?"

Tristan gave her a hard look. "Not one he knows about."

Rory's mouth opened in an 'O'. That she was not expecting. "So, he's claiming Jack has purposefully denied paternity?"

"He claims that Jack knew about the pregnancy and wrote the woman off. And it is someone he was involved with years ago, and I know he wasn't lying when he said he had no idea she was pregnant at that time. In fact, she got a job overseas and broke up with him. The timing is fuzzy," he sighed. "I have a lot of work to do to sort this out, and I can't do it all from the train. That's why I'm taking off in Greenwich. I guess you get your wish—you won't have me as a roommate. Not tonight, anyway."

She nodded, numbed by the use such delicate matters just to get money out of someone. It felt dirtier than blackmail; not only was he attempting to extort money, but to dangle a situation involving a kid that may or may not be Jack's, it was unconscionable. "Do you have kids?" she asked Tristan.

He barely shook his head. "No."

"Jack must be freaking out," Rory empathized, ignoring the expression on Tristan's face. If he was thinking of something from his past, he was brought back to the present by her words.

"He's not happy. He wants to call this woman and get to the bottom of it, because he's a good guy, but I advised him to let me deal with it until we know for sure what's going on. Don't leave him alone, if you can help it. He's good in a crisis, but we have to tread very carefully here. He can't go off the cuff, to anyone. I'll have my cell on, if you need anything."

He started throwing a few things back in his bag, but he left his suits hanging up, a sign that he'd be back as soon as he could. He tossed them on the end of the bag, to be ready when the train pulled into the station.

"I guess this is what you meant, how politics changes people?" she asked, starting to try to form an order in her mind, how this could play out and the ways she could help minimize the effects on the campaign.

He turned to face her. She waited, watching him step closer to her. Her mother was right; he was attractive, and it was harder for her to deny that at such close range; especially when they were not screaming at one another. She could tell by his eyes that there was so much weight to the subject for him—so much he would probably never tell her about what he'd been through. That was the problem with a lot of news reports in her opinion. They dealt with the facts, not the backstories or the backlash to all the other people involved. Like politics, it could get dehumanizing. "It's a lot of power, in the hands of people who aren't always worthy. People do bad things to each other, every day. Some people don't have limits on who they'll hurt. Combine those things, and lives get ruined."

There is was—the urge to comfort him again. Perhaps if he hadn't been so near, or maybe it was the fact that she'd just lost her mind and smelled his suit jacket and now she was able to breath in the real thing. She'd never thought of herself as nurturing, but with him standing there in front of her appearing so broken, no matter how mad she'd been at him minutes before she couldn't stop the urge to just touch him. She closed her eyes, willing her senses to block him out, trying to steel her nerves.

"Rory," he nudged, his hand reaching out and gently brushing her shoulder.

Her eyes flew open. "Yeah. I was just thinking, what it must feel like. For Jack," she rambled.

He removed his hand. "We should get going. Everyone's meeting in the dining car any minute. You're sure you're up to this?"

She nodded. "Yes. I'm sure. I can handle this."

He paused, though she wasn't sure if he was thinking of saying something else or just sizing her up. Whichever it was, all he did was move to open the door and allow her to pass through ahead of him. She only took two steps before his hand was on her elbow, turning her back to face him. "I know it's not a job requirement, for you to trust me. And I know you think that I haven't given you any reason to try. It's my job to do all the things that no one else wants to deal with, not to get people to like me. It's not a luxury I'm granted."

He had to stop doing this to her. Her resolve was strong, but it wasn't infinite—especially when he was touching her. "I know you're just doing your job. It's just hard not to take it personally when your job involves my life. I'm working on that tougher skin everyone told me I'd need."

He still had his hand on her elbow, and he let his hand fall slowly down her arm. "Yeah, well, do me a favor. Don't let it get too tough," he requested before he encouraged her walk ahead of him once again.

XXXX

Rory sat off to the side, watching Jack speak to the inner circle, those who had to be in the know of the impending situation. They should have been prepping for the whistle-stop speech, the first in a string of appearances that would culminate in his first debate with McKerney at the end of the week. It would have been prudent for her, already apprised of the situation, to start making notes and fielding drafts. Instead she watched Jack, brimming with grace under pressure, explain the allegation that may make all their jobs harder. The train had already begun to slow on the tracks, and it was a matter of time before Jack had to step out from under the cloud that had descended on him and pretend that he had no knowledge that there was someone out there that wanted to impede his career and upturn his life, just for a few bucks.

The train whistle blew, and Tristan clapped Jack on the back as a show of support and took his leave, easing past the gathered crowd and toward the sleeping compartments. Rory shut her empty notebook and followed him. By the time she reached their end of the car, he'd grabbed his bag and was making his way back toward the exit.

"You need something?" he asked, clearly poised for expediency. She was sure he'd already arranged transportation and knew exactly what his action plan was. The only thing standing in the way of his exit was her.

"You asked me, before, what I wanted that Logan didn't give me," she said, speaking quickly due to the time crunch and the fact that if she didn't get it out, she'd fail to give this confession. She had no idea what had come over her; but that was generally the case when it came to her interactions with Tristan. He stared at her, bewildered. "He never needed me. He pretended to, and he loved me, but it was an afterthought for him. He was always going to be fine without me. I want to be with someone who needs me despite the circumstances, in the most inconvenient of ways."

It only took a split second for him to react to her revelation. His arm wrapped around her waist fluidly, pulling her chest flush against his, and he leaned down to kiss her hard and quick. Much like their first kiss, it took her by surprise. But unlike their first kiss, he was the one that had to run the second it was over. He left her standing there, touching her fingers to her lips, still able to feel the heat and sweet pressure of his mouth. She had no idea what that meant for their working relationship, but she knew it was sure as hell going to complicate their roommate situation.

XXXX

Rory didn't leave Jack's side for a second for the duration of the public appearances. Not only had she promised Tristan, whom she was failing spectacularly to avoid thinking about, but she figured that Jack could use the support. He'd not missed a beat, giving yet another ovation-worthy speech to another riveted crowd, but she was close enough to see the cloud behind his eyes. It wasn't until he'd shaken the last hand in the waiting crowd that she'd steered him away and spoke candidly with him.

"You did great. How are you holding up?" she asked, trying to keep her words vague just in case. From her short time on that side of politics, she knew that she couldn't trust that someone wouldn't be listening. It occurred to her that she was already changing because of her new job.

"I know I should be concerned about the implications to my career," he admitted, "but I just keep thinking about what happens if it's true. What if," he began, smart enough not to extrapolate, but she knew what he was thinking without the words.

"I know," she said quickly. "I'm sure Tristan will sort everything out in no time," she added for comfort.

"That much I'm sure of. He's built for these things; he never drops the ball, no matter what all needs to be done. The man could run an empire. Sometimes I think it should be him, not me."

Rory frowned. "That's nonsense. Look at all you've done so far, and all you want to do. You want to be in office, and he said he had no aspirations to run," she reasoned.

Jack cast a side-long glance at her. "You really don't know much about his past at all, do you?"

She stood up straighter, bothered by the implication, given the last few seconds she'd spent in Tristan's presence. "What do you mean?"

"He has no plans to run now, that's true, but that's what he was on track for. Everyone expected him to announce his own campaign two years ago for the State's Attorney race, but he signed on to run Boyd's campaign."

"Representative Boyd?" she asked, trying to piece these new pieces of information Jack kept tossing her way.

Jack nodded. "He was the State's Attorney, in Hartford, Tristan was his top ASA. When Boyd announced his bid, Tristan went to work for him. That's how I hooked up with Tristan, for this race."

Rory couldn't believe it. His job history had shown up in her research, and his marriage, but nothing about intentions to run for elected office; of course, if it had never been a matter of public record, she wouldn't have been able to research it. She'd been able to place him in a timeline, but details had been few and far between. "I don't get it. Why would he suddenly go from running for office to running someone else's campaign?"

Jack sighed heavily. "Life hits you when you least expect it. We all assumed there was something he didn't want to leak, something messy. Nothing popped on his record, he's perfect on paper, especially after how he handled his father's indictment. Plenty of people were at the ready to back him. But paper doesn't always tell the whole truth. He's the best, and he wouldn't have given that up if he didn't think he had to."

Rory checked her watch, despite dying to ask more questions on the topic. "We should get back. You have a few interviews and then we need to get back on the train. It's going to be a long night," she reminded him. "But the interviews should go smoothly. You have everyone eating out of your hand."

"Yes, well, I suppose we should enjoy that while it lasts," Jack said with a determined smile, and Rory led their way back out to the assigned media areas.

XXXX

"Any dead bodies yet?" Lorelai asked through the phone as Rory sat on her bed, a closed book next to her as she stared at Tristan's suits. They were just hanging there as a blatant reminder that he was coming back.

"Please don't joke about that," Rory groaned under the light of the reading lamp positioned over her bed.

"Sounds like you had a rough day," Lorelai empathized.

"You have no idea. And you can't have any idea because I can't even tell you. That's how bad it is. I'm not allowed to tell anyone, not even my own mother."

"Is there a dead body?" Lorelai asked warily.

"No. It might not even be anything. Tristan thinks it's just an extortion plot with no real evidence to back the claims. But it's something he's looking into."

"He's not on the train, then?"

Rory glanced at the suits again. "Not anymore. He was, and, oh, you'll enjoy this; he's my roommate."

"What?" Lorelai asked. "Wait, are you allowed to talk about this?"

"My bad luck with men? That isn't classified information, unfortunately," Rory said with no small amount of remorse.

"Hey, it's better than having no luck at all," Lorelai reminded her.

"I've never believed that. That doesn't even make sense. Who said that, anyway?"

"Someone with no luck, I'm guessing," Lorelai laughed. "Maybe he fabricated the whole extortion plot to get out of sleeping in the same car as you. You do snore, you know."

"I do not! And besides, he certainly doesn't know that, unless he bugged my apartment. I don't think he'd bug my apartment; do you?" she asked, wishing she were more sure her denial.

"I know this is politics, but it seems a little far-fetched to me. I mean, who bugs someone's apartment just to find out if they snore in case they might someday have to sleep in the same train car? I've never heard of anything so crazy."

"Coming from you, that says a lot," Rory ribbed her.

"Of course, he might have had your apartment bugged to make sure you weren't having hot and heavy phone sex with Logan and found out you snore simply as a side effect of that. That's less crazy."

Rory shrugged the idea off. "He seemed to be fine with the room assignment, actually. He even left his clothes here. Well, most of his clothes."

"You aren't wearing these clothes, are you?" Lorelai asked suspiciously.

"No! Why would I do that?" Smelling them was one thing. And she was not going to mention that one thing to anyone. Ever.

"I don't know. You sound all weird. If there are no dead bodies, and you can't talk about the thing that hasn't officially happened, is there something else going on?"

Rory held the line. If she told her mother, she'd relive it. But she was having trouble not thinking about the kiss anyway. She had to tell someone, and she certainly couldn't tell Jack or anyone else on the train. "Tristan and I kissed."

"Twelve years ago?" Lorelai checked.

"A few hours ago. Just before he got off."

"Rory!"

"The train! Before he got off the train! You have a very dirty mind," Rory accused.

"Which you know very well, and therefore you should learn to phrase all your stories to prevent me from falling into the gutter!"

"You're so high maintenance. How on earth does Luke do it?"

"Again with the dirty! And he drinks protein shakes."

"I changed my mind. I don't want to talk about this," Rory backpedaled.

"But it's the only thing you're allowed to talk about! Unless you want me to go back to inquiring about dead bodies again. I only have so much train material."

"It didn't mean anything! There's nothing about it to discuss. It happened so fast, and now it's over."

"Who kissed whom?" Lorelai began, a skilled master at breaking down the art of kissing, especially when the kissing had been occured in less than straightforward situations.

"He definitely kissed me."

"And what happened right before he kissed you?"

Rory cringed. "That's the thing. I'm not even sure. I saw him leave the dining car, and all of a sudden I was following him and I told him that Logan never needed me."

"Oh good. We're talking about Logan again," Lorelai deadpanned her disgust.

"There's a reason for that. He texted me again, this morning."

"That guy needs to get a hooker," Lorelai said bitingly.

"That's what Tristan said," Rory couldn't help but laugh. "It wasn't a sext. He said he was sorry for stepping on another man's toes."

"Wow, clearly I never gave Logan enough credit. Even he can see you have the hots for Tristan," Lorelai pointed out.

"He only thinks that because Tristan contacted him and specifically led him to believe that," Rory clarified.

"He, oh... I'm guessing he didn't just call him up to ask his advice on how to win your affection?"

"I think that would fall under the heading of the blind leading the blind at this point," Rory scoffed.

"I have more experience with the pot calling the kettle black," Lorelai did her best to lighten the moment. "Maybe Tristan's just jealous."

"Jealous of what? A man that had no real reaction to my breaking things off with him? There was nothing left between Logan and me to be jealous of. That would be like me being jealous of Tristan's ex-wife."

"Are you jealous of his ex-wife?" Lorelai turned it around.

"What? No. I mean, he's not still with her and even if he were, or wanted to be, it would have no relevance in my life."

"Says the woman he just kissed."

"It was a fluke. One of those things that don't mean anything. What's the word I'm looking for?"

"I don't know; I'm pretty sure him kissing you was no accident. Maybe it was a lapse in control, but I'm pretty sure a kiss in the heat of the moment is significant."

"Well, it can't be. It was just like twelve years ago; there's other stuff going on and we momentarily lost our bearings. It doesn't mean we want to date. We're working together on a campaign, and it's not appropriate."

"Honey, I realize you like everything to fit into categories and have distinct boundaries, but there are some relationships that are messy. They're overwhelming and that doesn't make them bad."

"I'm not looking for a fling. I'm not looking for anything."

"You weren't looking for a career change either. Sometimes these things find you."

Rory considered her mother's words. "He's just going to come back here and either pretend it didn't happen or worse—blame me in some way for causing it to happen so he can use it as proof that I can't focus on my job."

"Hey, at least you have an established way of shutting each other up now. That comes in very handy in ceasing verbal sparring matches, which you two seem to be prone to. At least, it's been useful in my experience. I've made many a man kiss me just to shut me up."

"That's shocking," Rory reacted drolly. "I'm already aware of that technique, and I also know that arguments can spur angry sex. I have been in relationships with men before, Mom."

"I don't want to hear about you having angry sex. You were such a pretty daffodil in kindergarten. That's how I choose to think of you."

"That's healthy," Rory placated her mother.

"See, now that is the pot calling the kettle black!"

Rory chewed on her bottom lip. "It was so much easier to hate him before he kissed me."

"Now or twelve years ago?"

"Both, now that you mention it."

"I stand by my original opinion of him. He is very good. I'm starting to think he has you exactly where he wants you."

"What, confused and unable to process my mental state? Still, that's not even what bothers me most. Do you know the worst part of all this?"

"That you want him to kiss you again, to make sure it wasn't a fluke?" Lorelai surmised.

"No, I was going to say that he's off somewhere, working and completely focused on getting to the bottom of this issue for Jack and not even thinking about me or what the kiss meant. In fact, he probably only kissed me to get me to stop talking, like you said, so he could leave faster. He was just handling me. It's what he does."

"I hate to give credence to your denial, but if you think that's what he's really doing, or what you'd rather be doing, then do it. Stop staring at his empty bunk, and either work or go to sleep. Either one will do wonders to clear your head. Talking to me has never been proven to actually help anyone gain clarity," she advised.

"You're right. I should do exactly what he told me to do; focus on the job. I'll just get some sleep so I'm ready to hit the ground running tomorrow. We'll be parking at the depot soon, and first thing in the morning we have a breakfast event with the public. We're on high alert until Tristan comes back, and this whole week is going to be crazy. I don't need to waste any time or energy worrying about anything but my job."

"Sounds like perfect timing for romantic tryst to rear its head," Lorelai said. "But you're both overachievers, I'm sure you'll find some way of delaying actually discussing your feelings like real adults until it blows up in your faces."

"I blame you for this, just so you know. I excel at every other aspect in life except with relationships. I learned this dysfunction from watching you."

"So, you're blaming me for your attraction to rich guys from Hartford or your inability to keep from kissing them at the worst possible moments?" Lorelai inquired. "Wait. Okay, yeah, I guess there was no hope for you. Maybe it's finally time you stop asking yourself, 'What would Lorelai do?'"

"I don't ask myself that."

"Really? It's your name, too."

"You ask yourself 'What would Lorelai do?'" Rory asked in mild disbelief.

"Quite frequently."

"I think I definitely need new role models. And sleep. Maybe I'll forget about kissing Tristan. Not to mention this conversation."

"That is so not what Lorelai would do."

"Yeah, well, that's what this Lorelai is doing. Goodnight, Mom."

"Sweet dreams," Lorelai said lasciviously.

Rory shook her head and climbed down from her bed. She set her phone volume to high, so she'd be sure to wake up if there was an emergency call, and then turned to stare at the empty bed that would remain made all night. She wondered if Tristan would have kissed her if he hadn't been leaving. She wondered what possessed him to kiss her at all, but most of all, she wished she knew why she'd taken off after him to make such a confession in the first place. He'd made her past involvement with Logan his business, but it wasn't his place to fulfill her desires left in Logan's wake. If only he wasn't doing such a good job at doing it nonetheless.


	7. Upswing

Story Title: No Way Back

Chapter Title: Upswing

Description: Rory Gilmore gets tangled up in the other side of politics, but is she prepared to tangle with all it entails? Not if Tristan Dugrey has anything to say about it.

Rating: M (some chapters have some language, and it might get dirty. Just as a precaution.)

AN: Just have to say, you guys are awesome for leaving such lovely feedback. I'm so glad at the reception for this fic. Though who doesn't enjoy the kissing, right?

Rory sat in what had become her mobile office on the train, specifically the third table on the left in the dining car, with her laptop open, her phone in reach, a cup of coffee in one hand, and a piece of paper she was squinting at in the other. She was starting to fear she was developing the need for reading glasses.

"Is there a problem?" asked another of Jack's staffers, Tom Cooper, who was standing in the aisle for her to finish reading.

"First of all, use a bigger font. All this squinting is going to prematurely age my face," she glanced up at him over the top of the sheet.

He smiled. "We can't have that."

"No, we can't," she retorted amiably. "And you need to check a few of these facts. Are you sure the numbers are right on the waste disposal over the last five years?"

"I checked," he assured her.

She sighed. "Double; no, triple check. In fact, just do me a favor and triple check all your numbers. We can't afford any errors right now," she handed the paper back to Tom, and sat up straighter to address the rest of the crowd. "Hear me, people? Triple check all your facts; that means numbers, names, places, times, dates; we can't leave anything open for scrutiny on Friday evening."

There was the sound of grumbling heard throughout the busy room, though the typing and talking continued thereafter, just the same as before. Work never stopped on a campaign, certainly not just because they'd left the office for a week.

"If you keep up all this slave driving, they're going to have a new nickname for you," came a voice that made her nearly spit out her coffee. She hadn't noticed him arrive as her eyes had been glued to her computer, which had several windows open—but she her attention had been on scouring the headlines on CNN's website for the sixth time that morning, ensuring no political scandals had broken without her knowledge. Jack was in the clear so far, but it seemed yet another public official hopeful had fallen to the lure that was Twitter.

"They have a nickname for me?" Rory licked her upper lip, trying to erase the line of coffee that had coated it when she lifted the cup too high and nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of his voice.

Tristan gave her a knowing smirk. "You're just dying to know what it is, aren't you?"

She huffed. "No. When have I ever cared what people thought of me?"

"If you're sure. Where's Jack?" he inquired, lifting his gaze off her and around the train car.

She snapped her fingers, as if she'd forgotten something important. "I knew I should have put a bell on him."

"I told you not to let him out of your sight," he reminded sternly.

"He went to the bathroom. I may be a slave driver, but I don't like anyone to soil themselves," she said, still watching Tristan as her work remained ignored. "So, you're back."

He remained standing, despite there being ample room for him to join her. The table space was completely covered, but the seats were unobstructed around her. "Unless you're imagining me. Does that happen often?" he asked with a lilt in his voice. She noticed that his eyes were a calm blue, and she wondered if he'd put the matter with Emery to rest.

"I'm not prone to visual hallucinations," she said tersely. "But you should really see someone about your delusions of grandeur. I'm sure they have medications on the market that can control that."

He smiled. "You know what I like about you? You act like you're the first person ever to try to deflate my ego. It's cute."

She rolled her eyes. She'd been concerned things would be weird between them, since they'd kissed the last time they'd been in the same place, but he didn't seem any weirder than his usual insufferable self.

"Maybe you'd change your mind about how great you are if you knew your nickname," she shot back.

"You mean other than Romeo?" he smirked, innerving her.

"My mother suffers from a psychological disorder that's yet to be classified. I wouldn't be pleased with myself on her account if I were you," she scowled.

He shrugged. "It doesn't fit me anyhow. I'm not one to go down with a sinking ship."

She didn't say anything to that sentiment; she just sat back against the booth seat, her eyes studying this man she's spent so much time thinking about the past two days. That's how long he'd been gone, off to who knows where, questioning people that possessed intimate details and could confirm or deny their need for action in the matter of Jack's questionable paternity case. If he was tired, it didn't show. He wasn't in a suit, but a button-up shirt over dark jeans. It was odd for her, having only seen him in what was essentially a costume of the corporate world since they'd met as adults. It seemed natural on him, but it was probably because before that she'd seen him mostly in his Chilton uniform. His dress was far from casual, but that's how he struck her at that moment—casual and relaxed.

"Well, you were a terrible Romeo, anyway. You couldn't remember your lines to save your life. Or Juliet's," she imparted.

He seemed amused. "If it's any consolation, I'm sorry you had to kiss Paris. I did it once myself, and it gave me nightmares for weeks."

Rory suddenly realized they were discussing kissing in a mutual manner; not their most recently shared kiss, but she didn't trust herself not to segue into the particulars of their kissing history. She certainly didn't trust him to avoid that particular confrontation. This was neither the time nor the place, even though she was sure no one was listening to their exchange. Regardless, she feared that should the staff find out about their particular brand of fraternization, she'd earn a whole other kind of nickname.

"Jack probably stopped by his room. If you need to talk to him," she said, cutting their stroll down memory lane short.

He nodded slowly, with understanding. "I do. I can see you have everything under control out here," he cleared his throat. "And for the record, I thought you made a perfect Juliet."

Rory did her best not to smile. "Paris just wanted to see me dead, that's all."

"That may be. But that's just one more thing you can blame me for. I'll see you later," he said, giving a single knock to her table and leaving her with her mass of media and a room full of people triple checking their facts.

XXXX

Rory was exhausted, but she was still bracing for her inevitable discussion with her prodigal roommate. Tristan had been with Jack after the speech, so she took the opportunity to slip back onto the train and finish up one last release before beating Tristan back to the room. She opened the door, with her laptop bag slung over one shoulder and stopped in her tracks. Tristan had been in the room, to be sure, but he'd not dropped his stuff off. His suits were gone; the only trace of him had vanished from the room. It was hers alone. She put her bag down and turned to leave yet again, racing back through the train as the whistle blew, an indication they'd be departing in ten minutes. People would be returning any moment now, and some had already begun to do so. She checked the dining room and was headed back to the exit. There she was informed no one was to get off, in order for them to prepare for departure. She knew Tristan had been with Jack and decided to see if he'd sought out to room with him. It had been too easy with him earlier. This had to be his way of letting her know that the kiss had been some sort of lapse in judgment.

Jack's room was open, and he was alone in the space. "Rory, good, come in."

She stepped in, though her thoughts were still set on tracking Tristan down. "I thought Tristan was with you?"

He nodded. "He was. That's what I need to talk to you about. Sit," he instructed.

The panic hit her quickly, with the thought that Tristan had mentioned the kiss to Jack. Would he do that? It certainly had nothing to do with her job, but that wasn't to say it was going to accepted, her kissing someone she worked with. Would Jack fire her? She knew Jack wanted her on staff, but if anyone was expendable to Jack Kent, it sure as hell wasn't Tristan Dugrey—and Tristan knew that. Was he that desperate to get her off the campaign? He'd made no bones about the fact he wasn't thrilled with her addition. Jack was probably just being kind when he had phrased Tristan's reaction to sound like he thought she was unattainable as opposed to detrimental. Tristan didn't think anyone or anything was unattainable, except, apparently, his own political dream.

"What did he say?" she asked, bracing for the worst.

"Well, she does have a kid," he blew out a breath, sounding more than conflicted.

Rory blinked. It took her mind a moment to swing back to what she should have been thinking about. Jack's ex-girlfriend and the extortion plot. She wanted to kick herself. The kiss she and Tristan had shared was not worthy of all her mental resources. Whether or not she was up for a repeat was still up for debate, much to her frustration, but she'd been completely on the ball for the better part of two days regardless; that is until he had shown up and removed his suits from her room.

"Tristan talked to her?" she inferred.

Jack shook his head. "I wanted to leave her out of it, if we could, until we had to involve her. Certainly the child is off limits as well. It's a boy, though. He's eight."

She nodded silently. He was still processing all this information. "Has he gotten Emery to back off?"

"He threatened him with a lot of legal speak, breach of contract and the like. He's working on tracking down the uncle, her brother. He's out of the country, I guess, and Tristan's having a hell of a time getting a location for him, something about him being on a relief team in Africa. Their whole family is very involved in global issues. She left to take a position with the UN, when we parted ways."

"Doesn't sound like the kind of people that would tip off some sleazy guy who was looking to squeeze money out of you."

"Rob's a great guy, but he never liked me with his sister. I wasn't in her position, so I don't know what she might have told him about the baby to get him off her case. I'm sure she did what she thought was best, but even then, I can't say I approve of not telling a man he has a child. It might not be mine; but Tristan found phone records that link her to another man just after she got to Switzerland, and she was in constant communication with him for about a month, until she moved onto France. It ceased then. She moved back to the States last year."

"So we're still waiting and preparing for any outcome," she nodded.

"Yes. Tristan's hoping to put this to bed before the debate. He wanted to make sure you called him if you had any questions about the format or anything at all."

Rory frowned and shook her head. "I have a preliminary draft done; I'll have the final version to you tomorrow. Do you need anything else?"

"I'm just hoping for a positive resolution at the moment."

Rory paused. "How do you do it? Remain such an idealist?"

He shrugged. "It's just my cross to bear, I guess."

Rory gave a soft laugh. "Get some sleep. We have a breakfast meet-and-greet tomorrow, at six am."

Jack made a face. "I guess early risers vote, too, huh?"

Rory smiled. "They're the first in line at the polls," she reminded him as she left, shutting his door behind her. She walked the remainder of the corridor to her room, just her room, and stared again at her lonely clothes as she shut her own door behind her.

She pulled out her phone and examined the cracked case. She ran one finger down the broken plastic, feeling as if the fracture was somehow symbolic of her current state of being. She took a deep breath, turned the phone over, and opened her contacts. She pressed to call her selection and waited anxiously.

"Oh my God, I love you," came the very grateful voice by way of greeting.

"I love you too. What's with the rush of emotion?" Rory inquired.

"Oh, Rory, good. I do love you. I'm glad I didn't just profess my feelings to Joe the pizza guy. Last time he showed up here with flowers and two extra-large supreme pizzas, and Luke was not very happy."

"Maybe you shouldn't answer the phone that way, especially if your caller ID isn't working," Rory mused.

"My caller ID doesn't pop up when I'm already on the line," she explained.

"I can let you go, if you're talking to someone else. Besides, how else will Joe get through?"

"No! Emily's on the other line, and she's lost it. I mean it, I know I've said it before, but she's gone off the deep end. She's trying to get me to help her plan an intervention."

"Not that you haven't given an intriguing hook line there, but shouldn't you get back to actually talking to Grandma?" Rory reminded her mother of her previous commitment.

"Please. You know as well as I do that Emily is probably still talking and hasn't even realized there isn't an attentive ear on the receiving end. Heck, even when I'm on the line, there isn't an attentive ear on the receiving end. She's used to it. Besides, what's the worst that happens? She gets offended when she realizes I'm not on the line and calls me back to yell at me? I'm not answering my phone again tonight. I did not just get off the bus."

"So, if later on this evening I have some sort of tragic accident and you're notified as my next of kin, you won't be answering the phone? I could be dying and it would be your last chance to talk to me, and you wouldn't answer the phone because Grandma might yell at you?"

There was a pause. "That is unfortunately correct. Should we say goodbye now? I haven't really planned out my final words, but I bet I could come up with something pretty prosaic on the spot. After all, you did learn all your communication skills from me, both good and bad. Speaking of which, have you seen Tristan yet?"

Rory bit her lip. "So, why does Grandma want to plan an intervention?"

"You have seen him! Did you kiss again?"

Rory shook her head, even though her mother couldn't see her. "We didn't kiss again. We had a professional discussion. Well, sort of professional. It was completely normal."

"I'm sorry; did you just say that you had a normal conversation with Tristan? Are you forgetting that I've seen you have a conversation with him? There is nothing normal about it, trust me."

"Fine, it was normal for us," she amended.

"So what you really mean is that you flirted openly in between jaded barbs intended to make the other one think that you weren't really flirting, even though all you want to do is go back to your room and finish that make-out session you started a couple of days ago."

"You need a new hobby. Something besides drinking coffee and ignoring Grandma."

"Hey, I knit. And if you're not nice, I'll keep the scarf I'm making for you. It'll make my eyes pop just as much as it would yours," she warned.

"Fine. But you need to stop reading so much into my interactions with Tristan."

"Okay, okay. So, to what do I owe the pleasure of being so gloriously interrupted from your grandmother's attempt to hatch a plot to diffuse a situation that doesn't exist? I mean, if she's not careful, she won't spend the equivalent to my yearly salary this month. She's the one that needs the intervention."

"Is one of her DAR friends drinking?"

"They all drink. In fact, they could all drink me under the table and not even teeter on their outrageously expensive heels."

"So, who needs the intervention?"

"Mom is convinced Dad is becoming a hippie."

"What?"

"Apparently he's grown a beard and has asked the cook, behind her back, to only serve vegetarian meals on Thursdays."

"Yeah, that can't end well."

"Remember the time he grew the mustache? Crank that up by a thousand, and that's how much she hates the beard. She wouldn't have enjoyed the vegetarian day, but the fact that he told the cook without even running it by her—that broke her. She's convinced that since he won't listen to reason, i.e. her, he'll only listen to an entire group of his family and friends. Thus the intervention."

"You keep saying intervention, but in my head I see a catered, black-tie affair."

"Well, if it's hosted by Emily Gilmore, it'll be top shelf, all the way."

"I'm not sure an intervention would accomplish much in this scenario."

"I agree. You know who would benefit from an intervention?"

"Lindsay Lohan?" Rory guessed.

"No. You. Well, not just you. You and Tristan. Because there is an awful lot of denial flying around that train."

"He's not on the train."

"I thought you said he was back."

"He was," Rory sighed, looking back at her clothes. "But he took his stuff and he's gone again."

"Because he's still dealing with the issue that shall remain nameless or because he can't trust himself to be alone in an enclosed space with you without attempting to get in your pants?"

"He's working," Rory explained. "And it was just a kiss. It had nothing to do with my pants."

"You don't sound very happy about either of those things."

"It's fine. His being away makes thing simpler. Well, potentially not for the issue's effect on the campaign, but for me."

"His being gone makes your life easier," Lorelai repeated. "And just when have you ever been satisfied with the easy road in life?"

"Recently. My work is complicated enough. I need something easy. Something that I don't have to worry about. Something so blatantly obvious that it hits me over the head and forces me to have no other option."

"You mean like a man arriving at your apartment and giving you no other option than for him to give you a ride to work?"

"That's not what I meant."

"What about a man whose attempt to leave without saying goodbye to you first spurred you to run after him, make a sweeping confession, and resulted in him kissing you?"

"I clearly lost my mind for a minute. Or five," she cleared her throat. "Besides, I can't get into a relationship with a man that doesn't tell me anything about his past. He's so closed-mouthed—the only personal things I know about him are what Jack has mentioned by way of trying to make me feel more comfortable working with Tristan after he's been a jerk to me."

"Like what?"

"Well, I knew he was married and that he worked at his dad's law firm before working for the State's Attorney's office, but Jack's the one that told me that Tristan had plans to run for office, but backed out before he submitted the paperwork. Jack says that something major must have happened for Tristan to back out. But I have no idea what that is, and there's no way he'd ever confide that in me."

"That does seem strange."

"Not to mention how cagey he is about the topic of his wife and what happened there. Meanwhile he's hired an investigator to find out more about Logan and me, even though he didn't need to know more, and he's also somehow managed to suss out of me just why that ended. What I need is inside information on him, but I'm not sure anyone could provide it."

Lorelai paused. "Wait, State's Attorney… so he was in Hartford when all this went down, right?"

Rory nodded. "Yes. Why?"

"Then I know who you need to talk to, if you really want to know all the low-down, salacious details of what really happened with his career and certainly with his wife."

"You do?"

"Come on, Rory. Who do you know that knows everything having to do with the society set in Hartford? A certain woman I have on hold on my other line? A woman who desperately needs a distraction so she doesn't force my dad to have an intervention involving him shedding tears and a hired barber coming and giving him the closest shave he's ever had in his life?"

"Grandma? But she knows all the DAR gossip. How would she know about what happened with Tristan and his dad, or his wife?"

"Rory, Rory, Rory. Hartford society isn't that big. If he was an up and comer in the political game, he and his wife were in the circle. Even if Mom didn't witness it, she heard about it. Trust me. No way did a guy that hot become single and that not become a very hot topic among the ladies."

Rory thought that over. "I know he comes from money and all, but I can't imagine him falling for a trophy wife and being into that whole world. He seems to loathe it, even though he navigates in it."

"Well, he might not have liked it, but if he wanted to run, he needed to schmooze. Heck, even you lost your mind and joined the DAR. In fact, you probably just missed having a reunion with him by a couple of years over crudités at the opening of some art museum where no one understood what the artist was really trying to say."

"There's a picture."

"Hey, I don't encourage you to talk to Grandma often, but this is definitely her forte."

"I'll think about it. But do me a favor and hang up with me so you can get back to her."

"Fine. But I'm not writing Dad a letter telling him I love him and that he looks like Orson Wells. Even though he kind of does."

"Fair enough."

Rory ended the call and sat down. She remembered Jack's words, conveying Tristan's message that she should call if she needed anything. It was tempting, to just see where his mind was at, but she already knew what his mind was focused on; tracking down this woman's brother. She'd faced what she'd been dreading—seeing him again. She put her phone away and went to bed, thinking of her mother's suggestion to use her grandmother to fill in the gaps in her understanding of Tristan's past.

XXXX

By the time Friday rolled around, things had reached the peak of dichotomy. Things were going well—at each and every stop the crowds were large and supportive. More and more endorsements were rolling in and even donations were at an all-time high. But as Friday dawned, Rory could feel the pit in her stomach. It was D-Day, after all, the day Tristan had predicted the lowering of the boom if it were coming in relation to Emery's accusation.

She hadn't heard from Tristan since he'd last been on the train, and she hesitated to ask Jack if he had heard from him either. She had too much on her plate, finalizing the debate strategy and handling all the media interaction at each stop.

"You're going to blow McKerney out of the water," she said as she stood in the door to Jack's room, just over an hour before the debate was set to begin.

He double checked his image in the mirror and turned back to her. "Everything's in place?"

"It is."

"Any word from Tristan?"

There was her answer. "No, but he wouldn't miss this."

Jack nodded. "No news reports?"

Rory shook her head. "None. Just the glowing post-speech pieces that we love to see," she assured him.

Jack nodded. "Alright. Let's go."

Rory led the way out of the train and to the green room in the building, specifically set up for the Kent campaign to await the beginning of the debate. It felt like a holding area, but it was set up with food and drinks. Rory felt jittery enough and opted to shy away from the coffee machines. She poured two glasses of water and brought one to Jack.

The door opened and Tristan entered. He nodded to Jack and walked over to the pair. "Emery's taken care of. Just focus on the debate. I'll fill you in on the rest after. I need your mind focused," he said to Jack, before turning to Rory. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

She nodded and glanced at Jack, who seemed visibly relieved. She put down her cup and hustled to keep up with Tristan, who had left the green room and was walking at a clipped pace down the hall.

"Where are you going?" she asked, irritated by the rush. "We need to be in the main hall in a few minutes," she protested. He opened a door and ushered her in.

She halted once inside. "This is the men's room."

"This is an empty men's room."

"Still. I'm a woman," she protested.

"I noticed," he barked.

"That fact offends you?" she tossed back.

"Offends? No."

"Then what about me is so off-putting? Please, enlighten me," she asked hand on her hip and nothing but irritation in her voice.

"Rory," he said, his eyes closing as he took a big breath in and out. "I needed to speak to you, in private, and you're not the easiest person to persuade to just do something without a reason."

"Oh. Fine then. Talk," she commanded, only slightly guilty for being so defensive.

"Is Jack ready for this?"

She nodded. "He's on his game. Why?"

"The kid," he leaned his head slightly to the side in knowing way, "It's going to be an issue. Which means we need to come up with a strategy, which is necessary, but he's not going to want this to be handled. He's going to want to do it himself, which could be disastrous."

"What a sad commentary on our political system that a man wanting to take care of his child could cost him his career."

"Look, I'm not going to wax poetic on how life should be with you. It is what it is. And you needed to be informed before I tell him, so we can have a plan to present him with. It's our job to deal with it, not to wish there was a better way."

Rory nodded, pushing back her questions as to how Tristan would handle such private matters of his own in the public eye. Obviously he'd gone through it to a lesser degree, and Jack had made it sound like he handled it well. She would like to think that she'd deal with her family problems, certainly her own child, by doing whatever was best, no matter what it did to her career. Sometimes she even thought she could have put off her career and married Logan, if she'd loved him enough. She didn't know what enough was, she feared, as she had felt so strongly for him at times it tore her apart.

"We can spin it to his advantage; after all, he is the injured party. Let him talk to her, but we need to break it ourselves. It'll work for us; after all, he isn't married, and this child isn't something he was hiding."

Tristan nodded. "It's not everyone that can have illegitimate children crop up out of the woodwork and still go up in the polls. Jack's untouchable, I swear to God."

"Thanks to you," Rory reminded him.

"All I had to do was give Emery some free legal advice. And track down a translator who spoke Swahili so I could get a location for this kid's uncle."

"Is that all?" Rory mused. "Jack says you're the one that should be running for office."

Tristan's face darkened, as if she'd startled him. "Jack is mistaken."

Rory paused, considering him. "It's not a crazy idea. At least, Jack made some pretty good points."

He took a step closer to her. She lifted her head to maintain eye contact. "What else did Jack say?"

She shrugged one shoulder. "Just that I shouldn't take your attitude personally. He seems to think you don't hate me as much as you appear to."

"Sounds like you've been talking to Jack a lot about me," he said, his expression still unreadable. Intense, but unreadable.

"Your name has come up," she acknowledged. "In passing."

"Jack doesn't know everything about me. He's not my confidant, he's my candidate. If you're so anxious to know more about me, you're talking to the wrong man."

Her eyes fell to his lips, for just a moment. When she returned to his eyes, she had lost any wit to the response she could have formed. "I know all I need to know."

Now his eyebrow rose, and one corner of his mouth upturned. "Is that so?"

She had to hold it together. She squared her shoulders and nodded. "I know you're good at your job. That's all I need to know, right?" she pressed.

That wiped the pleased expression from his face. "Right. We should get back."

"Yeah. The debate will be starting. Jack needs us in there."

Tristan moved to open the door to the hall. "Ladies first."

Unsure as to what she'd just done, she took the lead as they made their way back to rejoin the rest of their team as the time for the debate drew near.

XXXX

Rory was beginning to see how this life could become addictive. To be sure, there were lows, but the highs more than made up for the long days, the panic inherent to deadlines and possible derailments, and the general negativity that politics invited. But nights that they were able to celebrate their victories—small though they may be—they were exhilarating. Rory had stood proudly in the wings, yet again, watching Jack speak; though this time he wasn't just addressing a crowd. He had specific questions to answer, given by a moderator, and retorts to give in response to McKerney's answers. Being able to speak to a crowd did not always translate to being able to perform well in a debate, but Jack's cool demeanor and natural charm and good manners made him appear the clear winner. McKerney had seemed to have issues with keeping his emotions in check when being called out on any misrepresentations, whereas Jack let things roll of his back as par for the course.

Even knowing the obstacles they were about to have to overcome, Rory couldn't help but feel that they were winning this race already. She just wished the vote were tomorrow and not months away.

There had been a celebration set up, with food and music and drinks. Rory smiled as she saw staffers stop dancing and mingling to applaud Jack as he joined the party. She hadn't seen Tristan since Jack emerged from the stage. She assumed they'd gone to play nice with the opposing side. Rory joined in the applause, holding her glass of champagne.

"Thank you, everyone. Tonight went far better than we could have hoped, as well as this first campaign tour. Please, thank your families for me, for stepping up and allowing your extended absences from their lives. I know it wasn't an easy week, but you all really stepped up your games. Tonight, celebrate, because tomorrow we're back to work. And, thankfully, back to Hartford," he said as he raised his glass and encouraged everyone else in a toast.

Rory drank slowly, allowing her eyes to scan the room. She had no plans on staying to dance or chat; she had some things to go over in the quiet of her room. Jack was right, work would resume tomorrow, and she couldn't slack for a few drinks; not tonight anyhow. She'd truly celebrate when the race was finished and the last votes had been counted. Hopefully, she thought, at the governor's mansion, as she put down her empty glass.

"Want a refill?"

She turned to see Tristan extending a freshly filled glass to her. She put her fingers around the glass, slipping over his as he exchanged ownership. She quickly put the rim to her lips.

"Jack was right. To insist upon hiring you."

Her eyes widened at his revelation. "You're just now figuring that out?"

"I meant that in a good way," he said, taking a drink from his nearly empty glass. "Besides, you didn't want the job at first either," he said knowingly, as she reacted to his statement. "That's right, Jack tells me things about you, too."

"It's not that I didn't want it; I wasn't looking for a job. I had one. A good one."

"You were a good reporter, but you didn't have a good job," Tristan reminded her.

She took another drink. She hated it when his logic was better than hers. She was a good debater, but she didn't have to work this hard with most people. "I was just paying my dues. I don't believe in trying to take things I haven't earned."

"You can spend years preparing for a certain track, but that doesn't mean it's the one you're meant to take."

"Aren't you philosophical this evening? Or is this your veiled way of telling me something personal about yourself?" she inquired.

"I can't imagine that you'd be all that interested," he said, putting down his empty glass. She wondered how many he'd drained. "You want to dance?"

She shook her head as she glanced at the crowd of happy staffers. "I don't dance."

He frowned. "Why not?"

She rolled her eyes at his inability to take her initial word on the matter. "Because I'm not good at it, on a fundamental level. It's not like I haven't tried."

"You haven't tried with me," he said, not dropping the suggestion.

She stared at him, wondering if he honestly thought that her being in his arms for any amount of time would lead to anything productive. After all, they'd already kissed, and the sensation of his fingers under hers on the glass had nearly turned the bones in her legs to gelatin. Even if he kept her from endangering others while they danced, he wasn't going to be able to prevent the reaction her body had to his. "You aren't going to do anything fancy, are you?"

"Let me guess—you try to lead, don't you?" he surmised.

"It's an archaic practice, making the woman defer to the man. I find it unnatural," she glared.

"You want more champagne? Sometimes a social lubricant helps," he advised.

"Are most women more inclined to dance with you when they're drunk?" she shot back, hating that she was in the process of giving in.

"Believe it or not, you're the only woman I've ever had to talk into doing much of anything with me," he said with an odd mix of humility and assurance.

"Fine. One dance. And if your foot gets stepped on, you can't say I didn't warn you."

"I'm not worried," he shook his head and took the glass from her hand, sitting it on the closest surface. "I know how to lead."

She took his offered hand in a defeated manner and moved to stand in front of him in the midst of other dancing pairs. She barely rested her other hand on his shoulder, as if afraid to touch him. She shifted her weight a few times, as she frowned in concentration. His hand wrapped securely around her waist, and he waited for her to stop fidgeting.

"Rory?" he asked, causing her to short-circuit her discomfort and look up at him.

"Yeah?"

"I have you."

She nodded, pressing her lips together as she let him start to move. Rather than fighting the direction of his body, she yielded to it. She was pleasantly surprised to find it refreshing, not only to stop thinking about what her feet should be doing, but to just let someone else guide her. She wasn't sure she'd ever experienced that feeling with a man. She relaxed into him.

"Do you ever miss being married?" she asked as her hand now rested easily on his chest, just below his shoulder.

"You want to know if I miss her?" he corrected.

"No, not her specifically. I mean, not that it's unacceptable if you do, it's just—sometimes I miss having someone in my life like that. Granted, I wasn't married, but I lived with him for so long—I got used to all his stuff being around and having food in the house that I don't actually eat and sharing a laundry hamper and bumping into each other in the bathroom when we both had to get ready and be out the door at the same time. It's weird, that I don't miss him, but sometimes I just look around my apartment and think how empty it seems. The alarm's always set for when I need it, it doesn't matter if I use the last of the milk. I'm rambling," she acknowledged.

He smiled. "You are."

"Now you're thinking I need a man."

"I wasn't thinking that," he shook his head.

She nodded and bit her lip. "So, do you?"

"Miss living with someone?" he posed. "Not really. But we had separate places until we got married, and I wasn't around a lot of the time when we were married. I worked a lot of long hours, and she picked out the biggest house she could find."

"You don't miss anything?" she baited.

He was so close to giving up some shred of memory. She knew he wasn't a robot—robots didn't kiss as well as he did. They probably couldn't dance as smoothly either. She barely even noticed she was moving, that's how effortlessly he was leading her. It would annoy her at a later date, she was sure, but in the moment it was lovely.

His expression changed; suddenly there was a softness in his eyes. "Since I wasn't around a lot, we took to leaving each other notes. It got to be sort of a thing, and for a while I never knew where I would find them. We left them everywhere; in the refrigerator, under pillows, in sock drawers—just random places that we knew would be discovered at some point in the course of our day."

She smiled. "That's cute."

He shrugged as if he couldn't argue. "I guess even bad experiences have some good to them."

She nodded in agreement as the song ended. She once again stiffened in his arms, not sure how to end the dance. She wasn't even sure she wanted to end the dance, but she knew it was prudent.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" he asked, releasing her as if to read her mind.

She shook her head with the slightest side-to-side motion. "You made it look so easy."

"Appearances can be deceiving," he said, locking his eyes on her. She felt a rush in her chest, and she wasn't sure whether or not he was talking about the dance, the kiss, or his ex-wife.

"I should go. I need to get a jump on Jack's press release," she managed under his gaze.

He simply nodded. "Don't work too hard. This is supposed to be a celebration, after all."

"Hey, I had danced and had champagne. It's practically like New Year's Eve."

"It's not New Year's Eve without a kiss at the end of the night," he corrected.

"I knew something was missing," she spoke barely above a whisper. "Well, goodnight."

He nodded her direction and watched her as she turned and wove her way through the crowd. She stopped once outside in the cool night air. It would be warmer soon, but there was still a biting hit to the wind when it blew harder. She shivered, filling her lungs full after being so warm up close to Tristan in a crowded room. It was a shock of sorts to her system, but it's what she needed. She needed a big dose of reality. Dancing with Tristan had done her no favors. With her wits seemingly about her, she made her way back to the train, ready to get to the task at hand before turning in for the night. Tomorrow they'd be back in Hartford, and she planned on calling on her grandmother; not only to help out her grandfather, but to see what exactly the gossip had been surrounding the indictment of Judge Dugrey and possibly what led to the demise of the marriage of one Tristan Dugrey.

She stopped short when she opened her compartment door and found that once again, there were men's suits hanging next to hers. She didn't hesitate to reach out and feel the tailored material, her fingers running the length of one sleeve. She pressed the shoulder into her nose, and for a moment she could almost feel his arms around her as they'd been on the dance floor. She stepped back, smoothing the suit back on the hanger, and smiled at the sight of her cohabitation. It was nice, even though she knew once again it wouldn't last.


	8. Same Old Story

Story Title: No Way Back

Chapter Title: Same Old Story

Description: Rory Gilmore gets tangled up in the other side of politics, but is she prepared to tangle with all it entails? Not if Tristan Dugrey has anything to say about it.

Rating: M

AN: Okay, heads up; there are quite a few major revelations in this chapter—but I still have a few more up my sleeve. So, enjoy. Also, more Trory interaction. Again, thanks for the reviews and I'm glad so many people are enjoying the story.

Rory shut her car door and cradled the bottle of scotch she'd carefully selected in one arm as she walked up the driveway to where her grandfather was wiping grease from his hands beside one of his classic cars. His overalls were smudged in various places, a sign he'd been at work for some time, and she noted that his beard had lived to see another day. His face still lit up in his usual smile nonetheless as he noticed her approach.

"Rory! How lovely to see you. This is a surprise, isn't it?"

"Grandma's expecting me, but only as of last evening," she admitted.

"Ah, that explains it. I did some reading and retired early. She was off at a dinner for one of her many organizations. I can't quite remember which one, but she informed me that I wasn't to escort her to any functions where her good friends would see my beard, so I was excused. I've been excused a lot lately. It's very refreshing. One gets tired of putting on a tie solely to eat chicken."

Rory held back her laughter, but her smile was wide. "I like the beard."

He nodded and ran his hand over his cheek and chin. "As do I," he agreed in good humor. "Ah, I see you have not come empty handed," he pointed to her offering with some interest.

"Oh, yes. Would you like me to bring it inside for you?"

"May I?" he asked, and she handed the bottle over for him to inspect. His face registered his appreciation. "Oh, my dear. This will be going into my private reserve. To what do I owe the pleasure of such good scotch?"

Rory waved his awe off. "It's one of the few things I learned from Logan, the best scotch," she informed him. "And I brought it to you for aiding the path to my new job."

"Yes, you're a part of Jack Kent's team now. Good man. You do look like you're happy."

She nodded. "Very happy. It's rewarding and fast paced and inspiring. Jack's a remarkable man."

"He is. Even Emily likes him, which is saying something, since he refuses to switch his party affiliation just to ease her conscience."

"Sounds about right. Is Grandma inside?"

"She is. And if you will be so kind as to tell her that I will move my car in five minutes time, that will prevent her from sending the maid out to tell me in another three minutes, if her schedule continues to be predictable, which it has been for the last fifty years."

Rory nodded. "Will do. I'll see you later."

Richard paused instead of turning back toward his automobile. "It's nice to have you close enough to be able to stop by on short notice. We've missed you."

She smiled at his sentiment. "I've missed you both as well."

He nodded, slightly uncomfortable as he stood in the driveway in his work clothes, having such an expressive moment. She gave him his privacy and turned to finish the walk up the drive to the front door, regal and familiar as it was to her. She knocked on the door, surprised to find her grandmother to be the one to answer it.

"Rory!" she ushered her granddaughter in the foyer.

"Hi, Grandma. Oh, Grandpa wanted you to know that he'll be moving his car in five minutes."

"Is he still out there? For heaven's sake," she muttered as she moved to stand on the stoop. "Richard!"

"Five minutes, Emily. It's not an eternity," he called back without glancing his wife's direction.

"You need to build a garage, Richard. Honestly, the neighbors see you in workman's clothing in front of our house, working on cars, all these years. Do you know what they think?"

"That I am a man who takes care of his expensive machines," he called back. "It is a fine hobby, Emily. It quiets the mind."

"Oh, please," she huffed and shut the door after she stalked back inside. She turned to walk into the sitting room, and Rory had to hurry to keep up with her. "Quiets the mind, like his mind is so loud. Nothing in this house is loud. Except the noise coming from him tinkering on those cars in front of the house!"

"The beard is getting to you," Rory soothed.

"It's atrocious. It's like kissing a grizzly bear," Emily complained.

"That doesn't seem pleasant," Rory placated her grandmother. "But I'm sure he'll shave it soon. The weather's starting to turn warm. I'm sure he'll shave it once summer hits. It'll be too warm to work outside on his cars in the summer sun with a beard."

"That's good," Emily nodded, making a mental note of the logical excuse. "Your mother said it was none of my business, but that's not true. When you're married, when you change your appearance or adapt yourself in some way, it doesn't just affect you, it affects your spouse as well. No one seems to understand that, not Richard, certainly not Lorelai. Besides, Luke always looks like he's been too lazy to shave, so I suppose she's used to it, or worse, finds it attractive. I've never cared for facial hair on men. Well, Errol Flynn had a nice mustache, but it was properly maintained. He was such a well groomed man. What about you?"

Rory sat up as her grandmother handed her a cup of tea that she'd had set out on the coffee table in anticipation of her arrival. "Do I like facial hair on men?" she inquired, a bit thrown by the request for her opinion in the matter.

Emily nodded. "Yes, that's what I meant."

Rory paused. "I've never really thought about it, but I guess none of the men I've dated have ever had much facial hair. I do appreciate a clean shave. But I don't think that men with beards are necessarily unattractive."

Emily sipped her tea. "And are you seeing anyone attractive these days?"

Rory felt that she should have at least seen that segue coming. She shook her head. "Not currently. I've been fairly busy with work and the move. Thank you, again, for setting up the apartment. It's wonderful."

Emily beamed. "I thought you'd like it. It's a very safe building. I never cared for you being in New York. I'm so pleased that you've found your way back to Hartford. And with Jack Kent, he's such an engaging man. He's single, isn't he?"

"Yes, in fact he is. But that's not my concern as part of his staff," she said gently.

"Oh, well," Emily reacted. "I suppose it's for the best. He is a Democrat, after all. Though he will have my vote, of course. There are occasions that call for voting outside of party preference."

"I'm sure he'll be thrilled to hear it," Rory smiled gratefully. "He's doing quite well. I know we have some time before the election, but the debate with McKerney was very promising. Did you see it?"

"I did," Emily beamed proudly. "I told everyone I know to watch and hear my granddaughter's words in action."

"That explains the high ratings," Rory teased good-naturedly.

"Oh, you. Now, you said you had a few matters you wished to discuss? Are you looking for something more permanent, like a townhouse or maybe something larger? We'd be happy to help you with a down payment if you needed. There are some lovely properties on the market nearby," she began with great zeal.

"I couldn't bear moving again. Besides, the location is perfect—with my long hours the lack of commute keeps me sane. And for the time being, I have more than enough room. It's just me, after all."

"Yes," Emily drawled with displeasure. "I suppose that's true."

"I was actually hoping you might remember some details for me. I've done some research, but the nature of what I need to know can't really be found through proper channels," Rory changed the subject.

"And you think I can help?" Emily asked, pleased.

"I hope so. You and Grandpa are friends with Janlan Dugrey, right?" Rory inquired, sipping her tea and doing her best not to appear anxious. "The retired judge?"

"Oh, yes, we've known Janlan for a lifetime. In fact, Sarah just passed away. I've been meaning to invite him for dinner. Men don't do well, when they've been married a long time, on their own. That woman ran his house and managed his affairs for most of his life. I can only imagine he's lost without her," Emily pontificated, but Rory knew that Emily was boasting of her own worth in Richard's life. Rory nodded empathetically.

"I can only imagine."

"Why do you need information on Janlan?" Emily queried. "We could invite you both to dinner, or better, perhaps a whole dinner party. That might lift his spirits for an evening, wouldn't you think?"

Rory frowned. "Oh, well, perhaps, but," she began, but it was too late. She could see Emily planning a menu and seating guests around her mahogany dinner table already in her mind's eye.

"You'd love Janlan, he's such a dear man. Horrible business, what he had to go through, watching his son disgrace the family the way he did."

"Did you know his son?" Rory perked up as her grandmother breached the subject herself.

"Not well," Emily shied away from the association. "I mean, he was always at his father's functions, of course, but he was always arriving late and leaving early."

"He got arrested for taking bribes, right?" Rory led the conversation back to what she wanted to know.

"Oh, it was much more than that. He was disbarred, of course, when he was indicted. But the whole reason he was taking bribes," Emily began. "Do you want to know all of this? It happened a few years back now."

Rory nodded in earnest. "Yes, please."

"Well," Emily began in her gossipy tone. "There were rumors flying around for years about his behavior. He was so temperamental, always in a very good or very foul mood, and he never gave his wife or family any explanation for the difference. People wondered if he was having affairs or his law firm was in trouble—he was a partner at a law firm before he ran for judge," she explained. "The same firm Janlan helped found before he became a judge. It's the Dugrey family track, all Yale law men. That's how Janlan and Richard first met, at Yale. Anyhow, he finally confessed to his wife, who went sobbing to all her friends when he went to jail, that he had gambled away most of their money, even dipping into his son's trust fund on occasion, and he took the bribes to cover his losses. Needless to say, he was out of control and it was only a matter of time before he was caught. Can you imagine that? Stealing from his son and going off to jail and leaving that poor woman with nothing? Janlan, of course, came to her aid. He was disgusted by the disgraceful way his son treated his family. Now Sarah never wanted a bad word spoken about her son, no matter what he'd done, but honestly. He belongs in jail."

Rory swallowed her last sip of tea hard. That was a bit more than she'd expected to hear, even from the great Emily Gilmore. "So, the family was divided; I mean, some of them still supported him after he went to jail?"

"Well, his wife hasn't divorced him, even though she is well within her rights to do so. Janlan would have loved to disown him, but Sarah wouldn't hear of it. And his son," she sighed. "I certainly don't blame him for testifying against his father, but Sarah certainly did. It ruined their relationship; nearly the whole family. I can't imagine they'd all be able to be in the same room for too long before it got heated. Of course, now that Sarah's passed, things should be more amiable. It's just such a tragic situation. Families should be something you can trust and, more than that, depend on."

Rory's mind was racing. He testified against his father, which means he helped send his own father to jail. A man who ruled on the guilt of others, sent to prison with the help of his own son who had yet to fulfill the family business of running for the prestigious honor himself. But Jack had said that people in high places had commended Tristan for his behavior during the trial. That must have been what he meant—he'd upheld the law to the point of giving evidence against his father. Surely that hadn't been what kept him from running—unless he was afraid he'd follow in his father's footsteps in one too many ways or the disgrace was just too much to overcome.

"I believe Janlan's grandson was in school with you at Chilton, of course that was well before the trial. Didn't you know Tristan Dugrey?"

Rory nodded, but her mind lapsed back to the train the night prior. She'd had the light out by the time he came into the room. He'd been on the phone, and though he waited to enter the room until he was finished, she'd woken at his angered responses on the other side of the door. She hadn't known to whom he was speaking, but from what she gathered he wasn't pleased with something they'd done. She wondered if it was more family trouble. It wasn't easy, the death of a loved one, and with all the baggage in their family, it was bound to stir up nasty reminders. He had been so quiet, however, the moment he stepped foot into their compartment, she'd guessed so as not to wake her. She'd watched silently as he got undressed in the dark, seeing only shadows and lines as he hung up his suit and dressed down to his boxer shorts. He slipped on pajama pants and turned toward the beds. She'd closed one eye, so as not to be caught staring, even in the darkness. If he was looking at her, she couldn't be sure, but he remained still for a moment before ducking out of sight and climbing into his own bed. She lay awake for a while after that, listening to him toss and turn several times before she finally fell back to sleep in the bunk above him.

"Yes. I know him."

"Poor boy. He's a man, I guess now, but it's hard for me to think of anyone your age as being grown. Dear. Anyhow, he had to endure so much all because of that poor excuse of a father of his. Do you know when he got into some trouble back in school, pranks and such nonsense, his father sent him off to a military academy, all because he was running for his first term as judge and didn't want his son to be a blemish on his record?"

Rory frowned. She vividly remembered that night, dressed as Juliet, in the halls of Chilton. She'd been talking to Tristan when his father had appeared at the end of the hall, calling him away. It was the last time she'd seen him until she arrived at Jack's office, so many years later.

"And after he quit his father's firm and started working for the state's attorney's office—another thing that didn't sit well with Sarah— it was such a shame what that hussy of a wife did to him."

Rory perked up again. It was information overload, but she didn't care. Emily never forgot a scandal—not one sordid detail went overlooked. "What happened with his wife?"

"I don't know all the details," Emily led. "But I do know that when they got married, she signed on for attaching herself to a Dugrey judge, and the life that came along with that. He met her at Yale, and she came from a no-name family, but she suddenly became pregnant and Sarah had that wedding planned and carried out before that girl started to show. So, they were married, and everyone expected the all-too-soon baby shower invites. God, I hate those ordeals—you have to go and give a gift, all the while pretending you can't do simple math in your own head. Anyhow, nothing came about. Eventually we all assumed she lost the baby; people said it was the stress of being young and planning that big wedding, and Tristan working so many hours. But they stayed married for a year, until around the time he quit his job, after then he found out that it had all been a lie."

Rory frowned. "What had been a lie?"

"There was no baby. She wanted to marry him, and apparently she wasn't sure it was going to happen, so she made it happen. Faked the whole thing, along with losing the pregnancy. She didn't mind living the lifestyle, though, buying expensive clothes, going to all the parties, buying that big house, all throughout her supposed ordeal. He found out, though, and that was that. She was gone. That big house is still just sitting empty. I guess he had too much to deal with to sell it. I heard she moved out of state; she certainly couldn't show her face around Hartford anymore. Sarah probably ran her out herself."

"Sounds like quite the matriarch. Wait, she was upset for this woman hurting Tristan, even after he sent his dad to jail?" Rory inquired.

Emily shook her head. "No, the trial hadn't begun yet when this all happened. He'd been charged, and Tristan left the family firm, which Sarah frowned upon, but Sarah believes in family. And even though she wasn't happy with Tristan, he was still her grandson. And this woman was sullying the Dugrey name. That was unacceptable, unless it was her son, apparently."

"Grandma, your memory is impeccable," Rory praised her.

"Well, it's hard to forget stories like that. It was like watching a film, or one of those soap operas on television. I never cared for those, though; they seemed an enormous waste of one's time. Your mother watched one, though, after school, and she blathered on about two of the characters for months and insisted on having a party when they got married."

"Luke and Laura?" Rory asked knowingly.

Emily snapped her fingers. "That's it. So, why the sudden interest in the Dugrey family?"

Rory paused. "I just read something about the trial, in some of my research, and I was curious to find out more. Mom suggested you might have the low down."

Emily frowned. "The low down?"

"The rest of the story," Rory said with a smile. "I hate to run, but I do have some work to get done. A week on a train left me with a lot of laundry to do and we have a lot more public appearances coming up. Jack's on a roll."

"I'm just glad to get to see you. We've missed you. You'll come by more often?" Emily checked.

"Of course. And you should tell Grandpa that you like a man with a close shave. It might be more effective than just telling him you hate the beard."

Emily thought about the words and smiled. "You might be right. Come on, I'll walk you out."

Rory left her grandparents' house and drove back to her apartment. She parked and walked out to the sidewalk instead of going up to deal with the chores that needed to be done in her apartment after a week of neglect. They'd unfortunately still be there whenever she got around to them. She had Tristan on her mind, and she was hoping he would be in the office.

She headed for her office and slowed as she heard heated voices coming from Tristan's office, just two doors down from hers. The door was ajar, and it was just too tempting to ignore. She paused out in the hallway, in front of her own door.

"I don't want it. I don't know how to make that easier to understand. Keep it, give it away, I don't care," Tristan said.

"It's not mine. I can't choose what to do with it, as it's not in my name. The will clearly states," came another voice, also male, slightly deeper than Tristan's.

"Yeah, I'd love to see the proof that those additions to the will were done while in a sound mind," Tristan cut in.

"I know the law, son. I was also her legal guardian. I had to make many hard decisions, the kind I hope you'll never have to make, about what was in her best interest. She knew I had held that money for you, and though she'd never admit it, she would have wanted you to have what was yours."

"Not like this," he argued. "Besides, I don't need it. I thought it was gone, but that's not what motivated my actions. I did what was right, and she never accepted that."

"It's over now. The fighting can stop. This wasn't my battle. I hate him for doing this to the family; you of all people know that. She and I never discussed it, because we weren't going to let it ruin our marriage. And I'm not going to fight with you over this money. It's yours, and you're taking it. I don't care if you give it away or spend it on things you don't need or bury it in that backyard you never visit. I won't let it come between us. Are we clear?"

There was a pause, and then she heard Tristan answer. "Yes, sir."

"Good. I'll see you soon. You look well. The campaign going smoothly?"

"It is. Thank you."

With that the door opened further and an older man stepped out into the hall. He gave her a friendly nod and smile, and she managed a curious nod and wave in return before Tristan appeared in his doorframe. He stopped short when he saw her.

"Look who made it to work," he mused.

"I had a personal thing," she said evasively.

"Yeah, me too. Mine was an ambush, yours?" he asked.

"Tea."

"Sounds refined."

"You'd be surprised," she nodded, eying him with something akin to fascination. She'd known that he had family issues, but the fact that he was standing there in his suit, appearing so normal after she'd just heard all the bad things that he'd been through from her grandmother, it seemed disjointed.

"What would you do if someone tried to give you five million dollars?" he asked suddenly.

Her breath caught. Did he know she'd been listening? Surely not. He didn't seem angry with her, just off kilter. "Five million? Honestly, I have no idea. I'm not sure I'd be entirely comfortable with the idea. Did I earn it?"

He smiled. "Most people just say they'd buy a house or cars or take a trip around the world."

"Yeah, but most people don't think about the tax burden from that kind of money being dumped into your lap."

"You aren't actually telling me you wouldn't want money, if you had access to it," he said with great disbelief.

"Actually, I am. I mean, I've known people with a lot of money—even my grandparents have a fair amount," she acknowledged. "I don't think it makes them any happier than anyone else. And in my limited experience, from dating someone with a lot of money—way more than I would have ever guessed, in fact—yeah, we did some things that were extravagant, but I was never with him because of any of that. I would have loved him if he didn't have a dime. In fact, I loved him the most when he lost it all."

The only word for the expression on his face was awestruck. She wondered if she'd overshared again somehow, as he didn't respond to her for some time—he simply stood there in front of her, seemingly shell-shocked by her.

"Some of us must be damned, then," he finally said, moving his gaze past her. "I keep trying to get away from it, and it keeps coming back to me."

"What?" Rory asked, as the conversation turned from slightly hypothetical to affected.

He jerked his head up, as if he'd suddenly noticed her standing in front of him. Her eyes were wide with concern, though she made no attempt to act upon it. "Nothing," he said, and then he walked past her and away from the offices. She spun to watch him retreat, wishing she didn't know all she now knew about his circumstances. She feared she could no longer bring herself to hate him, nor could she imagine him letting her show any form of compassion for him that would ease the pain of what he'd experienced. It wasn't as if she could change his past anyway, the notion was preposterous. It didn't keep her from thinking that he hadn't deserved all he'd had to deal with—no matter how much of a pain he could be in her life at times. Once again with him in the back of her mind, she went into her office and set to work.

XXXX

She stared down at the baskets of clean laundry. She loathed folding, though she did enjoy the satisfaction of all the finished piles, all orderly and fresh, a sign of a task well done. Her mother had always informed her it was a sickness, but then again her mother was known to run out of underwear and have to go without for a day while she did an emergency load of laundry. She needed to get on with her undertaking, however, as it was late and leaving the clothes lying in the hampers would only serve to secure wrinkles in the fabrics. Sometimes, she had the fleeting thought that it would be nice to throw a little caution to the wind and be more like her mother—she figured if she didn't have any more fun, she'd at least be a little more rested.

She was only moderately surprised when a knock came to her door at a quarter of eleven that evening. She was halfway done with her white laundry, and she glanced down to make sure none of her undergarments were on the top of the pile. Satisfied that she wasn't encouraging any thoughts of her intimate apparel, she opened her front door.

"You should start bringing things if you're going to keep doing this."

He held up an envelope. "How about this?"

She raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "Depending on its contents, it might do. Am I supposed to hold it up to my forehead and guess?"

"Opening it will suffice," he instructed in an even voice.

"Oh, come on. Tell me you used to watch Johnny Carson," she pleaded playfully.

"I'm more of a Letterman guy," he shrugged and offered the embossed wrapping to her.

She took it and examined the outside with his name and address across the street on the front in calligraphy. "Fancy. Is this the official invite for the fundraiser? I haven't approved anything," she frowned.

"You don't know what this is?" he pressed.

She shook her head and glanced back up at him, concerned. "Should I?"

"It's from your grandmother."

Rory pried the invitation out from the envelope and scanned it. "No. No, no, no."

"Yes," he corrected.

"No! I thought she was kidding!" she exclaimed in disbelief.

"Kidding about what?" he asked, trying to follow her train of thought.

"I mean, she's been so crazy lately, but she hasn't followed through with any of it. Heck, I thought she was much more likely to go through with the intervention than this," she moaned.

"Intervention? Who needs an intervention?" he asked, his tone demanding.

She rolled her eyes at him. "No one. My grandmother took her dislike of my grandfather's beard to the extreme. It's her trademark; we don't actually pay attention to her grandiose freak outs."

"Did you get one of these?" he asked.

"I haven't gotten my mail yet," she shrugged.

"I have to go," he held up his hand from his forehead after her rubbed his temples with his thumb and ring finger.

"Oh, okay," Rory frowned, assuming he meant from her apartment, at that moment.

He sighed. "Did you ever get anything other than Diet Coke in your house to drink?"

She smiled at his intent to stay. "I might have picked up some libations. Most of the people who come over tend to either need something or leave me in the mood to imbibe."

"Who else visits you?" he asked, knowing the remark was aimed at him.

"My mother, mostly. I haven't exactly been here much since I moved in. So few people are willing to drop by after eleven o'clock at night," she ribbed him.

He nodded and stepped inside, following her to the kitchen. She opened up a cabinet and got down two glasses. After she put ice in each one, she opened a bottle that was waiting on her counter and poured amber liquid into each.

"So, why is your grandmother inviting me to dinner?" he asked after he took a discerning drink.

She shrugged. She couldn't really tell him what had prompted Emily's thoughts to turn to the Dugrey family. She'd wanted to be on an even playing field with him, knowing about his past the way he knew about hers, but she certainly didn't want to admit the fact that she'd gone snooping into his private matters. "I believe she and my grandfather know your grandfather. She's probably offering condolences; Emily doesn't really send over casseroles."

He locked eyes with her, and then took another drink. "Smooth stuff," he managed. "You know your scotch."

"I bought two bottles, one for Grandpa, and one for me," she informed him. "Though I'm not big on scotch; it strikes me as something men enjoy."

"He taught you about good scotch?" he asked.

She looked down into her drink, at the discolored ice at the bottom of the glass. "No."

He put his glass down on the counter and folded his arms over his chest. "Did you really mean it the other day when you said you wouldn't want to have money?"

All the air in her lungs seemed to exit in a swift whooshing motion. She knew it was a loaded question; perhaps even more weighted than he realized. "In my experience, money has always been used as a wagering tool. I wasn't raised with it, but I was raised around it. When we needed it, it came with strings. I never went without anything I needed, but sometimes that meant we had to fulfill obligations. I can't really complain—I got a very good education and got to know my grandparents better because of it, but it was difficult on my mother. She hated asking for help, and she really hated being obligated to her parents."

He listened to her, as he remained leaned back next to his emptied drink. "So money would have made your life easier."

"Money amplifies who people are. I'd like to think if I ever received five million dollars, or any other large sum, whether I earned it or I was bequeathed it or whatever," she spoke cautiously, "it wouldn't change how I live my life. Even if I'd have married Logan, who I'm sure will amass more than what he lost when he left his father's control at some point in his life, I wouldn't have wanted to quit working or live like my grandmother does. It's not a bad life, I know that, but it's not for me. It's just now how I am or how I was raised."

"But you did join the DAR. You were quite involved for a time," he pointed out, clearly pulling from the fact finding mission he'd performed in her honor.

"That was different," she admonished in soft tone. "That wasn't what I wanted. It was an obligation, in exchange for what I thought was time to think."

"Think about what?" he pressed, not backing off of a topic she wasn't naturally expansive about.

"Can you please not use everything your investigator dug up on me in every conversation we have? Can't you at least wait for me to divulge personal information, especially when it's of the unpleasant variety?" she asked, snapping at him.

"I'm sorry," he backed off. "I was just curious, that's all. Having seen the facts I was presented on you; the timeline was complete, but not all the pieces fit. The DAR membership was one of those pieces."

"Yeah, well, sometimes we try to fit in places we don't belong."

He gave a half-smile. "I can't imagine you not fitting in. It said you were either a co-chair or lead on several of the more lucrative events during your active membership."

Her expression gave way to a small smile as well. "It's not that I didn't fit in, I just hated that I did—and that it was all I was doing. I was supposed to be at Yale. I was supposed to be learning my craft, not managing seating charts and appetizer rotations."

"Clearly you are a woman of many talents," he praised her.

She gave an amused chortle. "That's one way to look at it, I suppose. What about you?"

"What about me?" he asked, straightening his shoulders.

"What would you do with five million dollars?" she probed. She had always assumed he had money, mostly because she knew he came from money, but he also held a high-paying position. She'd never guessed at a dollar amount; rich seemed sufficient. The specific dollar amount hadn't factored into her opinion of him.

He shook his head slowly. "I have no idea. But I guess we'll find out."

She frowned at him, unsure of his level of seriousness, especially with how grave he appeared at the notion. "There are worse problems to have, you know."

He narrowed his focus at her. "It's not the sum I find problematic, but rather the benefactor."

She had been able to put two and two together, but again, by means of listening in on his private conversation. It was more than a strong hunch she had that he'd been left that money in his grandmother's will. "And who is that?"

He grabbed the bottle of scotch and poured a small amount over the remainder of his ice. "My father."

Rory watched him raise the glass to his lips and the way the amber liquid flowed between his lips into his mouth. A rush of heat went through her, along with confusion. "But isn't he…?"

"In jail," he confirmed. "It's complicated."

"That's what you always say, like it's so off-putting that people will drop the subject," she informed him, by way of not letting him off the hook.

"I didn't come here to talk about my father," he said, his eyes flashing like a stormy blue sky.

"Then why did you come here?" she asked, pushed to frustration at their conversations that went in circles and never answered her most basic questions. "If you don't want to talk to me, and I haven't done anything to screw up your life recently, then what?"

Her voice was now near a yell—raised far from her normal range, to be sure. She could feel the blood pumping in her veins, though she thought that might be linked to the harsh alcohol she'd just ingested. She never cared how smooth men claimed scotch to be, it still burned on its way down. Lorelai always joked that men drank it to put hair on their chest, and therefore she'd always opt for a martini.

"The invitation," he said with clenched teeth.

"That invitation was not from me. Feel free to decline, in fact. You don't owe me or my grandmother anything."

"I can't," he tossed back, his own voice raising at her accusatory tone.

"Why not?" she demanded.

"You know all about family obligations. If I was invited, then so was my grandfather, and probably my mother, which means I have to go. I'll be in town and I'm expected. It would be rude for me to decline otherwise. That's what my life is like. Money was always a wagering tool in my life—and it was never my decision when to offer myself to be tied to the obligations. My birth certificate did that."

"And I'm supposed to feel sorry for you?" she baited him. She hated herself for doing it, but just because his life had been littered with self-serving people didn't mean he could come into her home and be self-righteous with her.

"I thought," he began, but then he shook his head. "Never mind."

"No," she moved to put her hand on his arm, stopping him from exiting the kitchen. "You thought what? What is it you want from me? And don't give me the line about work. This isn't about my work performance."

He stared down at where her hand was resting on his arm before meeting her eyes again. "I was wrong. It doesn't matter."

"Wrong about what?" she implored, wishing for once he would just be painfully clear with her. She understood his urge to be guarded, but it was maddening to circle these topics that were so intimate and never really share anything with the other. The few times she had opened up to him, it had led to physical contact that she still couldn't classify. It was maddening in a way that made her want to jump out of her skin.

"I shouldn't have come. You've made that much clear."

"Tristan, stop," she commanded, which got his attention again. He shook his head.

"I can't," he said. While he was looking at her with a mixture of sadness and remorse, his words were firm.

"God, I wish you made more sense. You always leave me wondering what the hell just happened. I never know if you hate me or," she cut off, not ready for the last part of her thought.

"I don't hate you," he assured her. "I wish you could have given me a reason to."

"What?" she asked, bewildered and incredibly unnerved.

He stepped closer and brushed her lips with his thumb before sliding it over to her cheek and kissing her full on the lips. She leaned up into him, into the kiss, sliding her arms up from his waist to his back. This kiss was slow and much more intense than the one on the train; if only that he gave her the chance to respond to his affection. His hand stayed against her cheek, his fingers brushing the hair at the nape of her neck. When he broke contact with her lips, she watched him anxiously, wondering what his next move would be. He just stood there, as they held onto one another, until her eyes focused on his lips again. She was just about to instigate the next kiss when he stepped back and let go of her.

"Tristan," she began, but he shook his head.

"I wish someone had told me once, before things got too far, so I'll tell you now. You don't want this, Rory. Whatever this is," he gestured between them. "It's not what you're looking for."

Fury was back at once, at his omniscient assumption. "And you know what I'm looking for?"

"You told me on the train. No matter what I offered you, it wouldn't be enough."

Rory stiffened with the implied meaning. "Thanks for the clarification."

"Rory," he began.

"No, I get it. You can go; you were right, you shouldn't have come."

Her curt tone was enough to silence him. He nodded and walked out of the kitchen, and straight to the front door. By the time she heard the front door close behind him, she squeezed her eyes shut and waited for equilibrium. Once again, he was gone and she was more confused than ever.


	9. As If I Was Yours

Story Title: No Way Back

Chapter Title: As If I Was Yours

Description: Rory Gilmore gets tangled up in the other side of politics, but is she prepared to tangle with all it entails? Not if Tristan Dugrey has anything to say about it.

Rating: M

AN: You guys are awesome, and such attentive readers. I thank you. I've got the next chapter in my head already, so it should come out pretty quick. In the meantime, here's the next bit.

Her office door opened swiftly, which instantly garnered her attention. For the last week, she'd kept her door closed when she was working in her office. Not only was it getting louder in the front of the building as more and more people had joined the ranks to help elect Kent and were busy talking on the phones and to one another to that end, but a closed door provided a buffer between her and Tristan when he inevitably passed her office on his way to and from his. As he was constantly on the move, or so it seemed, it saved her many furtive glances and flares of emotion—ranging from confused to downright angry—directed at him that she refused to confront him with during the workday. His late night visits had ceased, leaving her no proper outlet to vent any of her frustrations-hence the door.

Whatever he couldn't do—this elusive thing he'd been wrong about—she still didn't understand, other than continuing a relationship outside their working affiliation. She had decided that was just fine with her, after all, it wasn't as if she'd been so eager to pursue something extracurricular in nature with him of all people. She imagined—and she had to admit that she did in fact imagine it quite vividly—that any relationship between them would be largely physical in nature, as he was much too closed off to enter into a symbiotic, healthy exchange with a normal human being, let alone with her, who wasn't exactly an expert on relationships either. What really got to her, she had come to realize, was that he kept putting her in these positions that gave her the want, by means of opportunity, to allow herself to warm to the idea—not to mention how she'd warmed to him in general—only to then turn away and shut down.

She couldn't lay all the blame on him for her frustration, even though it was tempting. She was the one that had both involved her grandmother and uncovered all the details of his life that had done nothing more than soften his erratic behavior in her eyes. There was the one sentiment he'd tossed her way that she could identify with—she wished that he'd given her more of a reason to hate him as well. It was those kinds of remarks that made her think that they had a greater understanding of one another than they would admit. But it didn't matter; she was done trying to figure him out—she was finished trying to explain his behavior in any way.

Of course, it was more difficult to ignore him when he was the one barging into her office.

She said nothing at first, choosing instead to just shoot him a glare of annoyance at his uncouth entrance. He didn't seem to care, if he noticed at all, as he strode up to her desk and tossed some fastened papers onto her desk, right on top of her keyboard, which she'd been actively using.

"Do you have amnesia or some other cognitive impairment?" she inquired, as she picked up the papers and put them in her inbox at the side of her desk without glancing at them.

"I've never had the pleasure," he answered curiously. "Why?"

"So, you do remember how to knock?" she established.

"I'm in a hurry, and now you are too. We go live at four-thirty eastern," he said, checking his watch.

Rory hurriedly grabbed the papers from her box. "That's in one hour!"

"That's why I used the word hurry. It implies a time crunch," he said drolly.

"Why is this happening now?" she asked, flipping through the pages furiously.

"It's good timing," Tristan cleared his throat. "Jack told me he'd let me know as soon as he talked to her, so we could go public—and he has, so we are. We need to know how it's going to affect the polls before the fundraiser next week, so while it's short notice, it actually is to our benefit. Providing you're worth your salt and can produce a speech that shines him in the best possible light. I'll be back in a half hour to go over what you have, and we'll prep him."

"Great," she grumbled, closing what she had been working on and starting to refocus on the new task at hand.

"Something wrong?" he checked instead of leaving her to her work.

"No, I just need to get this done, and it's unexpected, and now I'm going to rearrange some things and miss an appointment. I'm sure you have something better to do than watch me work, so," she gestured to the door.

"Is the appointment something you can hand off?" he offered. "I can pull someone to fill in."

She cocked her head and rolled her eyes. "I was supposed to get a haircut. I can't delegate that kind of task."

"My mistake. I assumed that it was something important that you couldn't reschedule," he shook his head and turned to leave.

"It will take weeks to get a spot to replace the one I managed to get for this afternoon, which won't help me any for the time being," she informed him. "Not that you care."

He turned back to face her. Her fingers were already moving against the keyboard again, as thoughts were flowing out of her. She glanced up quickly, to see him studying her.

"What?" she asked, annoyed at his timing and his continued presence.

"Just trying to see what was so wrong with your hair."

Her hand went up self-consciously to the back of her head, where she'd pulled back her brown hair hastily that morning on her way out the door. It was smooth and out of the way, as far as she could feel with her fingers. "It's too long."

He shrugged. "It's your hair," he said finally and wandered out of her office, leaving the door open. She seethed for a moment, at his general inconsiderate nature, but she was too busy at that point to get up and shut the door. He'd just come barging back in shortly, whether or not she was prepared—it didn't matter. She'd do what needed to be done, even if it meant dealing with him.

The conversation they'd just had was the most they'd spoken of late, since the night he left her apartment after their kiss in her kitchen. She had gotten the same invitation he had received, which she pulled from her mailbox the next day. She'd tried to back out of it, but Emily had insisted that the group needed to be rounded out, and her mother had already come up with some excuse as to why she couldn't be bothered to attend. Besides, Emily had reasoned, since she knew Tristan that would make things more comfortable. She hadn't had the heart to tell her grandmother just how wrong she was—nor had she the stomach to mention to Tristan the fact that she'd be joining the dinner party that very evening either. She'd wrangled a spot at what her mother had assured her was the best place in Hartford to get a haircut, so she'd at least look her best upon arriving to dine with him and most of his family at her grandparents' house. Truth be told, she'd also bought a new dress and had planned on treating herself to some shoe shopping before heading to dinner. But now with the last-minute press conference, and the attending of said press conference, she'd be lucky to make it to her grandparents' home in a timely manner, even with skipping all her personal errands.

Jack came to stand in her doorway before Tristan reappeared. He gave a slight knock on the edge of her doorframe, just as she was hitting print on the copy.

"Hey. Sorry about the rush on this."

Rory gave a smile. Now that was how you ruined someone's afternoon, she thought. Of course, as many qualities that Jack possessed that she admired, she never found herself thinking about him in inappropriate ways. Leave it to her to fantasize about the one man that was incapable of acting even remotely with regard to her. "Not a problem," she assured him. "In fact, I'm done."

"Of course you are. You're a rock star," he praised her, though he breathed with relief. He knew they were cutting it close to the wire. "May I?" he asked, as she printed off the results of her labor.

"Well, it is for you. And the rest of the voting public, shortly," she attempted some humor, given the nature of the topic.

He smiled and took the pages, starting to skim over them. Tristan walked into the room to join them, and she wordlessly handed him the second copy she'd printed. He went straight task, reading at a rapid pace next to Jack.

Jack glanced up at Rory when he was done. "This is great, but doesn't it make me sound," he led.

"Like a man who has been wronged but is too gracious to lay blame on a single mother?" Tristan finished. "It's the truth, first of all; there are any number of law suits you could bring against her for what she did. Second of all, you could have been the best father in the world to this kid if you'd known about him, and knowing you, that's what would have happened. This is good," Tristan assured him, giving Rory a cursory nod of approval as well.

"What did she say? If it's not too personal?" Rory inquired.

Tristan shot her a look and shook his head, but Jack answered anyhow. "She panicked. She hadn't planned on going through with the pregnancy, mostly due to the fact that she planned on moving to Europe and knew that we weren't going to make it through that. She hadn't told me about the pregnancy, so she figured she could just start over in Europe. But then she had a change of heart, as things progressed, and she didn't know how to contact me and tell me I was a dad. She said it got harder to try to reach out, as time went on."

"I could imagine. I mean, the longer you keep things from people, the more hurtful they become," Rory acknowledged, purposefully not looking at Tristan, who remained silent.

"But we agreed to meet, soon, and we'd talk before I met the boy. She named him John. Despite my excellent legal counsel, I doubt we'll need any kind of outside intervention to work out favorable means of moving forward."

"Not to rush the conversation here, but we need to go. The car will pick us up in less than five minutes, and you'll have a quick run through to get you camera ready, then we're on. You're sure you're able to come along?" Tristan asked Rory.

"Of course. Nothing's more important right now than this," she assured him. She'd rather be fielding media responses all day than attend dinner later, but she saw no need to elaborate on her preferences at the moment. If he couldn't focus on anything but the job, neither would she.

The three were off then so Jack could deliver the one speech that they all hoped wouldn't be too detrimental to the campaign. Like it or not, life had intervened, and the only way to deal with it was to embrace it and come out with it before it was discovered. Finding out about a long-lost son was a better headline than neglected son discovered. It felt like the only thing Rory and Tristan could agree about was the direction of the campaign. Though she had a feeling they'd be sharing a mutual dislike of forced dinner parties in the near future.

XXXX

Rory took a deep breath after she stepped up in front of the doorway of the large home. She let her fingertip hover over the doorbell, wishing she could just slip in unnoticed and get a feel for the general tone of the party before she decided if she really wanted to stay. She felt the penchant to run already brewing in the pit of her stomach, though the heels she'd pulled out of her closet would make that difficult to do. She smoothed her new dress and pulled the light wrap she'd chosen for the warm late spring evening around her shoulders tighter. She pressed the bell and waited.

"Are you Miss Gilmore?" asked a brand-new maid that had answered the call to duty; probably replaced just in time for the dinner party.

Rory smiled politely. "Yes. Has dinner begun?"

"Oh, no, Miss Gilmore. Mrs. Gilmore is having dinner held until all her guests have arrived. Everyone's having a drink in the sitting room."

Rory wished she'd missed the extended social hour. "Great," she said, her smile now pasted on as her discomfort grew. She handed off her purse and wrap to the maid and walked slowly through to the sitting room. Emily was seated in her usual spot—the best place to view everything going on in the house. She stood the moment Rory came into view.

"There you are! My goodness, I was starting to worry."

"Sorry, Grandma. Work got crazy, and I had to go back and change," she smiled and brushed her still-long locks back off her shoulder before accepting a martini from her grandmother, who already had some mixed and had given it a good shake before pouring it into a fresh glass.

"We saw! That must have been a shock, a child he never knew about. How awful."

"Yes, it took Jack completely by surprise, and it's certainly had an impact on things," Rory replied, waiting for the introduction to the well-dressed blonde woman sitting on the settee with a martini set in front of her on the coffee table.

"Rory, I'd like you to meet Annabelle Dugrey. Annabelle, this is my granddaughter, Rory Gilmore."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Rory said with a smile as the greeting was reciprocated.

"Rory, I can't believe you didn't tell me you and Tristan were working together," Emily chastised. "I knew you two were acquainted from Chilton, but I had no idea he was Jack Kent's right-hand man."

"Oh, Emily, don't take it personally. Tristan never tells us anything either," Annabelle assured her.

"Well, at least we'll have plenty to discuss at the dinner table. I love lively conversation," Emily smiled, pleased with the outlook for the evening. Rory wished her grandmother's excitement was enough to make the evening go smoothly.

"I'm sorry you held dinner on my account. I did hurry," Rory assured her.

"Oh, it was no trouble. We were waiting on Tristan as well; he just got here—Richard took the men into his study to look at some rare first edition he acquired of _The Trial_."

"Good book," Rory nodded and took a sip. She would have been more interested in seeing the book, had Tristan not been part of the viewing crowd in her grandfather's study. She was reminded why she didn't engage in gossip often; it was disarming to know too much about her present company and for none of it to be appropriate to bring up as a topic of conversation. It left little room for pleasantries, as all she could think of was sordid details and inappropriate questions. After all, this was a dinner party, not an interview. She was definitely more adept at the latter.

"Sounds like they're hungry," Annabelle said, as the voices of the men, jovial in nature, got louder the further they came down the hall. Richard's face lit up when he saw his granddaughter, as it tended to do, and he greeted her in kind.

"Rory! You made it. Hell of a job on that press conference that Kent gave," he said as he gave her a hug. Over his shoulder, she took note of Tristan's expression. He'd stopped short, allowing his grandfather to make his way into the room first, staring at her as if he was potentially seeing an apparition of some sort. Rory was vaguely aware of greeting the man she recognized as having come from Tristan's office a week before, Janlan Dugrey, and Emily suggesting they all move into the dining room. Rory's feet failed to carry her in straightaway as the rest of the group filed in. Tristan hung back as well, and after everyone else had begun to find their seats, he stepped up next to her.

"I didn't realize you were going to be here. You never said."

"I didn't get my invitation until after," she began, but then she met his eyes. "Anyhow, I tried to get out of it," she said quickly, feeling heat rise in her cheeks from even a near-miss of thinking about the kiss they'd shared in her kitchen. It hadn't felt spontaneous, as the others had. He'd very much intended to kiss her that time, and she had fully anticipated to kiss him again—until he put the brakes on and disappeared.

"Oh, well, that will make this evening less awkward. Nice picture of you in the study, by the way."

She blushed more intensely, though part of it was due to ire. "Hey, what do you want from me? I didn't plan this get-together, nor was it my idea. And I'm certainly not the reason things are strained between us," she accused in a hushed tone.

That silenced him, and in an attempt not to draw attention to the two of them, he put a hand swiftly in the small of her back and nudged her into the dining room. She took to her side of the table with a meaningful glare in his direction, but he moved without provocation to his intended place at the table.

"So, Tristan, Janlan was telling us that you're the man behind Jack Kent," Emily led as the maid brought out the salads. Rory said a silent prayer that this wouldn't be one of her grandmother's more lengthy meals. She'd sat through many torture sessions where course after course kept coming and dessert wasn't prepped until the last of the meal had been finished. Though Emily had no grievance with anyone at the table that she knew of, so she hoped they'd suffer through three courses and she could beg off from exhaustion before dessert.

"Jack has entrusted me with getting him into office. I can't do it alone; we have a great support staff," he answered graciously.

Rory held back a snort of derision—not that Tristan didn't appreciate the staff, but she could still hear his voice telling her the lay of the land on her first day. He made no bones about considering himself the top of the food chain in regard to the campaign staff.

"It sounds like Rory was one of your better additions to the staff," Annabelle bridged the conversation.

"Jack was very pleased to have her as a part of the team," Tristan agreed, not meeting Rory's eye across the table as he speared some greens on his fork. She was pleased to have something to stab while having to sit and listen to him make polite dinner conversation.

"We can talk about something else, really. All we think about all day is the campaign," Rory assured her elders, though that comment did catch Tristan's interest. He eyed her as he chewed.

"Please tell me you haven't adopted a policy against discussing politics, religion, or sex at your house, Richard," Janlan said jovially. "What else is there ever to debate?"

"They do make the world go round," Emily agreed amiably.

"I thought that was money," Rory said, without thinking.

"Excuse me," Tristan said, pushing back from the table after wiping his mouth with a linen napkin.

"Oh, I hope he isn't looking for the restroom," Emily sighed once he was out of sight. "The guest bath is still out of commission. I've called that plumber six times this week, and they can't get anyone here to fix out toilet for two weeks. Richard, can you tell him he can use the one off the kitchen?"

"I'll go," Rory offered, moving to get up before her grandfather could react.

"Thank you, Rory," Emily smiled. "Honestly, these people charge highway robbery prices for these tasks, and they can never seem to come in a timely manner. There should be some sort of regulation in place."

Rory walked away from the sounds of her grandmother's rant on blue-collar labor, and moved down the hallway, to find Tristan opening the door to the bathroom.

"That one's broken," she called out to him. "I can show you the way to the back if you like."

He turned and faced her as he shoved his hands into his pockets. "I don't need a tour guide. Or a bathroom. I just needed a breather."

"It was an expression," she sighed.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

"What is it with you and bathrooms?" she posed as she stepped further in.

"Do you ever stop talking?" he asked, still holding onto her hand.

She yanked her hand free. "I'm sorry, am I distracting you from your brooding? You wanted to come here and play the martyr, but I'm getting in the way of that?"

"I'm sure you knew enough of what you were walking into tonight. My family isn't one that gets invited over together as a whole many places anymore. We're too fractured for that. I certainly don't make many guest lists, and when I do, my work schedule is usually busy enough to get me out of those kinds of obligations."

"I don't understand what is so bad out there. Everyone's being normal."

"I know what's coming. I know the triggers. And you don't, so don't lecture me on things you don't understand," he spoke in a patronizing tone.

"I understand plenty. And maybe you wouldn't have such a problem with these kinds of functions if you'd ever explain yourself to anyone, instead of shutting yourself off," she chastised, not in the mood to back off. She honestly had no idea if it was better to treat him with kid gloves or to boldly confront him—neither seemed effective so far.

"What does that mean, you understand plenty?" he repeated.

She looked sharply up at him. "If you don't have to explain yourself to me, I'm sure as hell not going to explain myself to you. I'll see you back at the table," she said as she walked out of the bathroom. She slowed her pace as she reentered the dining room, and sat to resume her meal.

"Did you redirect him?" Emily inquired.

"Yeah, I set him straight," she smiled tightly. She noticed Janlan perk up at her words, but she just stabbed more greens on her fork and focused on eating. The salad plates had been cleared by the time Tristan rejoined the group. The conversation was resting heavily on Janlan and Richard catching up on old times, while the women listened.

Emily seemed pleased for a break in topic. "Rory, have you given any more thought to moving into a larger place?"

Rory jerked her head up, startled. "As a matter of fact, I haven't."

"You're looking for a home here in Hartford?" Annabelle asked with interest.

"The market is so low right now, it seems the perfect opportunity," Emily pressed.

"Grandma," Rory shook her head.

"It's certainly no market to sell in," Richard agreed. "Abominable."

"Is that the reason you won't get rid of that house of yours?" Janlan turned to his grandson.

"Are you looking to sell?" Emily asked Tristan, aiding the conversation.

"No," Tristan answered Emily politely but curtly, ignoring his grandfather altogether.

"Then why don't you live there? It's wasteful, to throw money away on a downtown rental that you don't need when you have a perfectly lovely home," Annabelle joined in the conversation against her son.

"I own it, it's not my home. There's a difference. And It's my money, so I will do with it as I see fit," he countered, giving a pointed look in his grandfather's direction.

"I didn't mean to pry into a personal matter," Emily shook her head, glancing at Richard for assistance in changing the subject.

"No, it's fine. You must excuse my family, they tend to butt into matters of mine that aren't their concern," Tristan spoke with a strained decorum.

"Tristan," Annabelle sighed. "Emily, Richard, I'm sorry, please pardon my son."

"Well, I for one think it would be great to have you so close to us on a permanent basis," Richard spoke to Rory.

"I appreciate that, but I can't make that kind of commitment to a house right now, no matter what the market is like. I can't be sure I'll be in Hartford long term."

Tristan ignored the plate of food that had been slipped in front of him as she made that declaration. She doubted that he had any more luck reading her mind than she had in attempting to discern his thoughts.

"You can't be thinking of leaving already, you just returned!" Emily protested.

"Politics isn't always a stationary post," Rory said, answering her grandmother while watching Tristan's reaction. "One of the few things it has in common with journalism."

"You've got another offer already?" Tristan asked her, point blank, watching her as if he could see no one else at the table.

"Nothing official," Rory answered, pushing some food around with her fork, doing her best to avoid his intense scrutiny.

"You couldn't leave Jack in the middle of the campaign," Richard spoke up.

"No, this wouldn't involve leaving Jack's campaign. But I need to be thinking about what my direction will be after that," she smartly parroted Tristan's earlier sentiments. She could still feel his eyes on her without needing verification.

"Do you plan on going back to reporting?" Janlan inquired. "You have quite a talent."

"That's nice of you. But I haven't decided anything for certain," Rory spoke honestly. "I'm sorry, will you all excuse me for a moment?" she said as she got up from the table much in the same manner as Tristan had earlier.

She didn't bother going all the way down to the working bathroom. She opened the door to the one that no one else would need and began to shut the door, but Tristan appeared just as she went to enclose herself.

"This is a solitary activity," she informed him.

"What, hiding from the rest of the guests?" he posed.

"Yes, as a matter of fact. Of which you're one."

"Who's been talking to you?" he inquired, making room for himself in the bathroom.

"More often than not, you," she tossed back at him, as he shut the door behind him.

"You made it sound like someone's made you a contingency offer."

"Someone has, but it's not for certain yet, hence the contingency."

He paused, having gotten confirmation of sorts. "Are you going to take it?"

She looked down. "I don't know. It's a great opportunity, but," she sighed.

"Then you should take it," he pressed.

"You don't even know what it is. And there are other factors," she explained.

"Life is full of other factors. If it's what you want, you should take it."

"I'm not sure what I want, or if it'll even be an option," she dismissed.

"Why not? I don't have the numbers back yet, but what you helped Jack pull off today alone make you worth more than anyone else in this position. You'll have your pick of campaigns, not to mention other avenues to explore."

She turned a discerning eye on him. "What about you?"

"I told you, my next move is to work on Jack's bid for presidency," he repeated evenly, without thought.

"And that's really what you want to do?" she pressed.

He hesitated. "He and I have discussed his desire to press on, yes."

"I'm not talking about what Jack wants. I'm talking about what you want," she stepped up to him. "I've never seen someone so self-assured and confident to the point of being insufferable at times be so afraid of focusing on what they want and backing away from things they desire for themselves. Why is that?"

He swallowed and looked down at her as she stepped closer. "You shouldn't be so concerned about what I want."

"And yet it's acceptable for you to follow me into bathrooms to find out what it is that I want?"

He leaned down, just in range of her lips. She felt her heart speed up in anticipation. "I never claimed I didn't suffer from lapses in judgment."

She stiffened at his words. That's what he thought of her, some sort of weak point? She pushed past him to the door, knocking against his chest on her attempt to exit. "Maybe you're the one that needs the tougher skin."

She could feel her heart pounding in her ears as she marched back down the hallway, to the rest of the party. She sat down in her seat and had just placed her napkin back in her lap when Tristan came back into the room, his eyes on her and his expression dark.

"Is everything okay?" Emily inquired, volleying her attention between the two.

"It's fine, Grandma. Just work stuff."

"I hope this matter with the child doesn't cast a pall over Jack's run," Janlan announced.

"Jack's handling it all with dignity. I'm sure the public will recognize that this has nothing to do with his ability to govern the state," Rory said with a great deal of confidence.

"Even still, the addition of a child can swiftly change one's plans," Richard said wisely.

Rory couldn't help but notice Tristan flinch. Janlan also turned to look at his grandson in a protective manner. Rory felt a rush of relief that everything in their family wasn't strained; that someone was still concerned about his well-being, even if they showed it in misguided or unwelcome ways.

"Richard," Emily spoke sharply as she shook her head at her husband.

"What? It's a fact of life, Emily."

"I just think that it's none of our business," Emily declared. "And there must be more interesting events going on in the world other than this man's personal affairs."

"Unfortunately, when one enters into the public eye and runs for office, their private life is on display as well," Richard argued. "It's par for the course."

"That it is," Tristan agreed stiffly.

"It's lunacy, to think just because you offer yourself up for public service that it's acceptable that your life should be dissected for public entertainment," Emily added.

"It was my experience that if you focus on your service, the rest works itself out," Janlan spoke calmly. "You earn respect of the public."

"But it's different now, these days," Richard said sportily. "With the internet and constant media outlets vying for exclusive stories on these people. Too many people working to find fault with any little comment or implication."

"That's why Jack has Tristan," Rory said, meaning it to be complimentary, but Annabelle excused herself, her quiet demeanor suddenly turning from reserved to shaken.

Emily glanced from Rory to Tristan and stood. "I'll just go make sure she's alright."

"She's fine; she just has little sense of humor about the nature of my job," Tristan explained without emotion.

Janlan cleared his throat and put his napkin to the side on the table. "She's your mother. It hurts her to see you settling for less than your full potential."

Tristan shook his head, staring down at his plate as he clenched his jaw. "She knows nothing about my work, she just knows that I'm not doing what she expected me to become. And if she's so intent on people living up to their full potential, why is she still married to Dad?"

"We could excuse you for a moment, if you need," Richard offered.

"No, I think we're done," Tristan said, standing up from the table. "Please thank Emily for extending the invitation, but I'm not sure this family is capable of being in the same room together for any period of time without rehashing the same old arguments," Tristan stood and paused behind the chair after he pushed back to the table. "If you aren't going to let me move on in my own way, then it's never going to get better," he informed his grandfather, who shook his head.

"You can't simply move on from family, son," he informed him, and it was evident it wasn't the first time he'd tried the line.

"I haven't been left much other choice," Tristan said with finality before giving Rory one last glance. She gripped her napkin in her lap, having watched the exchange with rapt distress. He turned to walk toward the door, and she was on her feet in an instant.

She passed her grandmother in a blur, hoping her running pace in heels was fast enough to beat his quick, long strides.

"Rory? Where are you going? Rory?" Emily called as Rory made her way through the front door. She could see him already at his car, hand on the latch.

"Tristan!"

He sighed and stilled his hand against the door. "Go back inside."

"No," she said with force. "This isn't work, you can't tell me what to do."

He raised an eyebrow. "Because you're so subservient at the office?"

"Your mother wants you to run for office in the next election, doesn't she?" she asked straight out, ignoring his attempt to lose her momentum in idle barbs.

He held up his hand. "Please don't get into this."

"Why not? It's what you really want, right?" she asked, her breath slightly labored from her short chase.

"I don't have to answer to you," he deflected.

"No, you don't. But you could," she said as she crossed her arms and scowled at him. "I get that your family is messed up and that you've been married and obviously it didn't end well, but do you have to be so hell bent on pushing everyone in your life away?"

"It works just fine most of the time, with one notable exception," he answered, taking in her defiant stance.

"Your grandfather?" she guessed.

He shook his head. "You."

"Me? Is that a joke?" she asked, once again confused.

"This isn't easy for me. I knew it wouldn't be," he spoke the words aloud, but they were as good as vocalized internal chatter to her ears. His phone rang, and he groaned. "Hang on, I need to take this," he said to her, as if she might just get bored and wander away, back in the house or to her car. He took the call and spoke few words, but when he hung up, he swiftly popped opened his car door. "Get in."

Her first reaction was that of wary reluctance. "I have my car. I only had one martini earlier, I'm fine to drive."

"You might not be later. Come on, we're celebrating."

She opened her mouth to speak, but all her thoughts had become one big jumble. "Celebrating what? This magical evening?" she posed at last, gesturing to the main house they'd just escaped from.

He laughed. It was a strange reaction, after the dinner they'd just lived through, but it was so enjoyable to watch, him in true amusement.

She gave a nervous laugh. "Are you okay to drive?"

He quieted down. "Sorry, it's just—the call, it was the initial polls. It's early, obviously, but the feedback is positive. Jack just went up five points."

Her eyes widened. "Five points? That's huge!"

"Get in," he repeated, this time walking around to the passenger side and opening the door. She could think of plenty of reasons not to, but she also knew she'd never understand him if she was never around him when his guard was down. She had a feeling that wherever they were headed, his defenses would slip, even just a little. She walked around the front of his car, slipped past him, and got into the car. Once her legs were stretched out under the console, he shut the door and made his way back around behind the wheel. "You're never going to make it easy on me, are you?" he asked, as he started the ignition.

She smiled, tucking her chin slightly. "It's not my style."

He just nodded as he put the car in gear and headed out away from the botched attempt at family togetherness.

XXXX

"Tristan?"

His eyes remained on the road. A very familiar road. "Yes?"

"I thought we were going to celebrate. I don't think that taking me back to my apartment and drinking my scotch qualifies."

"Why not? You aren't going to drink it all by yourself," he teased.

"You have five million dollars, buy your own damn scotch," she quipped.

"Now there's a good idea. I could buy my own distillery," he mused. "And I'm not taking you home. Well, not to your home. You did a good job today, so I figure you should get a reward."

He pulled into a garage on the opposite side of the street from where she normally parked her car—which was still in her grandparents' driveway. "If your idea of a reward is taking a woman to your place, then you really do have an inflated sense of self," she turned to look at him as he drove slowly in the underground lot.

"You knew that already," he informed her. "It's part of my charm."

"I'm also not sure you understand what charm is," she impressed upon him.

"Do you want to me to take you back to your grandparents for dessert, or would you rather come up with me and find out what I'm really offering?"

She scrunched her lips to one side her and narrowed her gaze. He pulled into the parking spot and turned to wait for her answer. "Fine. I guess since we're already here, I'll see where you live. Or at least, where you get your mail."

He smiled and shook his head. "I don't get my mail here. I have a box at the post office," he informed her.

She got out of the car and walked around to fall in step with him. He pressed the lock from the fob on his key ring, and the beep resonated in the concrete structure. "Of course. Why would you have mail delivered to your actual place of residence?"

"I switched it before I moved. I didn't know where I was going to be living, so I got a box. I got used to going in to get it, and there's a coffee place next to the post office that I got in the habit of stopping at. The routine stuck, so I never closed it."

She listened as he explained his seemingly odd behavior. "Makes sense."

He smiled. "Everything I do makes sense. To me, at least."

"That's sort of what I'm afraid of," she admitted as they reached his floor. He stopped outside the fourth door on the left. "This is you?"

"For now," he nodded.

"Planning to move after the election?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Maybe. There will be a lot of details to work out. Jack's talking about keeping me on as his senior advisor if he wins, which means I'd be staying in Hartford and doing double duty. If he doesn't," he cut off.

"Wow. I've never heard you even allude to him not winning," she said with awe.

"Of course he's going to win. He just went up five points after going live about a long-lost kid he had out of wedlock. He's fucking golden."

Rory stared at him intently. "Come on, admit it, just to me—you were worried."

He shook his head, as if she were crazy. "You want a beer?"

"You brought me up here for beer?" she asked, tossing her wrap and purse onto a table by the front entry. "Hey, you have actual furniture in here."

He turned to stare at her curiously. "It's an apartment. What were you picturing?"

She shrugged. "Boxes, poorly stocked kitchen, big TV. You're a man living alone that works all the time. It happens."

He shook his head at her mental image and continued into the kitchen. Remembering what happened the last time they were alone in a kitchen together, she waited in the living room for him to bring in two beers. He brought her an opened bottle and offered the neck of his out for a salute.

"To our resident spin doctor," he toasted.

"High praise coming from you," she joked before she took a drink. She brought the bottle down and held it with both hands. "It's okay, but I know for a fact that my grandmother had a crème brulee in her kitchen. You better have something better than beer ready."

He took another sip and put his drink down on a table. "Ask me something."

She cocked her head, in interest. "What?"

"I admit that I use professionally acquired personal knowledge of your life to my favor at times, things that aren't always fair to bring up," he confessed with a small amount of humility.

"There's an understatement if I ever heard one."

"It's only fair. You earned it. No one else could have done what you did for Jack today."

She blushed. "Thank you. I," she hesitated as she tried to pick her poison. "Just one question?"

He smirked. "Don't get greedy."

"Fine," she muttered. "Do you talk to your father?"

He picked up his beer. "No. We've had to correspond over the years, but it's all done through lawyers."

"That's sad," she said, taking another sip.

He shrugged. "It is what it is. He could try to earn my trust again, but he hasn't. I have no incentive to reach out to him otherwise."

"He is in prison," she pointed out.

He shrugged, and then pointed a finger at her. "I knew you looked into my past."

She shrugged. "I didn't get very far on my own," she admitted, but realized her phrasing. "It's not like I have my own investigators."

"I don't exactly relish in the fact that I needed to hire them in the first place. If it weren't for my father, I wouldn't have ever hired any, most likely. In fact, I'm pretty certain if it weren't for him, my life would look very different."

"In a good way?" she assumed.

He pondered for a minute. "Actually, no."

"If you say something cheesy about how you wouldn't be here talking to me, I'm going to dump this beer on you," she threatened him.

"I appreciate the warning," he smirked. "But as much as I'm enjoying our time together, it's not what I meant."

"What did you mean, then?"

He sat back against the back of the couch. "I'd still be married, or at least, I wouldn't have found out why I shouldn't have gotten married so expediently."

"You had your wife investigated?" she asked, slightly horrified. Granted, she realized that if his wife was as bad as her grandmother had described, it was warranted, but still. Marriage should have signified some level of warranted trust.

He shook his head. "No; or at least, not at first. I had them run my financial records as well as my father's, because things weren't adding up. I wasn't set to get access to my trust fund until I was twenty-five, so my records were still combined somewhat with my father's at the time. I overheard a conversation between him and another lawyer at our firm, and it concerned me to the point that I started my own personal investigation to find out if it was on the up and up. By the time he was indicted, I needed to know that I wasn't going to be implicated in his mess, since we were financially linked. It was then I realized my trust was gone and some issues cropped up with Ashley through the financial records. Things were missing."

"More money?" Rory surmised.

He took another sip. "Medical expenses."

She put her beer down, already feeling the weight of what they were on the precipice of discussing. "I appreciate you being forthcoming with me like this," she began, "but this doesn't feel very celebratory. After all, this is your victory too. We don't have to talk about this, at least, not now. Not ever if you don't want."

He gave a sad, though relieved smile. "You have something else in mind?"

She smiled, nodding in earnest. "Get your keys."

"You so do not want to go back to Richard and Emily's," he groaned.

"Nope. New Haven."

He had not expected that suggestion, by the expression on his face. "Yale? You want to revisit your alma mater now?"

She smiled. "You're a Yale man, too. Surely you frequented the Rich Man's Shoe."

"You want to go to a pub at Yale? Now?" he revised.

She nodded with an encouraging smile. "It's folk night."

He laughed. "And?"

"And there is no better entertainment on earth than that," she said in mock awe.

"You're serious?"

She rolled her eyes. "Come on, there will be pretty college girls there."

He grabbed his keys. "Fine. But I would like to go on record by saying there are far better ways to celebrate than listening to some whiny chick sing while I'm trying to enjoy a burger and beer. To prove my point, while we're there, I'll show you what I used to do for fun during my days as a Bulldog."

"Fair enough. But if you lapse into lawyer speak, I'm going to send the folk singer a drink from you with a note that requests she plays Joni Mitchell's _River, _just for you."

He tsked. "See, there you go, showing your hand. You're never going to expect what I might do to you," he said in a deeper voice as she came up with her purse behind him, leaving her wrap absentmindedly behind. She stopped short and stared up at him with her lips slightly parted.

"I'm pretty sure I can handle it," she managed to sound slightly confident in her words.

He smiled. "We'll see about that," he said as he opened the door and waited for her to pass by him through the doorway. She paused when he spoke as her hair brushed his shoulder. "By the way, I like your hair long."

She wondered if that was his way of showing his hand. Her only response was to smile before walking back with him out to his car so they could begin their short road trip to a place they were both familiar with, despite all their memories being separate until that evening. It was how she felt about him in many ways—that they kept missing each other. She couldn't help but wonder if that was about to change.


	10. Hope We Don't Take This Ship Down

Story Title: No Way Back

Chapter Title: Hope We Don't Take This Ship Down

Description: Rory Gilmore gets tangled up in the other side of politics, but is she prepared to tangle with all it entails? Not if Tristan Dugrey has anything to say about it.

Rating: M

AN: I keep meaning to add notes on chapter titles. This one is from DMB's _The Space Between_. Ch. 9's was from DMB as well, _Fool to Think_, and Ch. 8 was from Foo Fighter's _The Pretender_. The rest have no song relation. Sometimes I listen to a song over and over while writing for inspiration. I had a DMB compilation CD in my car last week, and thus, the last two chapter names. Also, this chapter earns its M rating. Hurrah!

Rory's lips formed into a slight pout as she slid into a chair and looked around the interior of the restaurant. "I can't believe they put an end to folk night."

Tristan chuckled at her reaction. "It probably had something to do with their cost analysis. I'm guessing this place emptied on folk night," he argued.

"If that's true now, then college kids these days have no idea what they're missing," she said. "I mean, no matter what kind of mood you're in, it works. Sad over a break up? Not as sad as the folk singer. Need a drink? The lyrics naturally lend themselves to drinking games. Just need a good laugh? What better to mock than the intense yet nonsensical ramblings of a folk singer?" she posed meaningfully before taking a good look around her old hangout. "Hey, when did college kids start looking so… young?"

He glanced from side to side, taking in the groups at nearby tables and the bar. "Yeah. I'm resisting the urge to card a few of these kids. But that could just be my legal training kicking in."

"I keep forgetting you were actually a lawyer," she mused as she signaled the waitress.

"Still am," he corrected. "I'm just not practicing at the moment."

She considered this and turned to the waitress, who'd come up to them. "We're going to need some shots. Tequila, with lime."

"Uh, actually, she'll have a shot, and I'll have a beer and some water," he amended to the waitress, who nodded and walked away.

"You aren't going to shots to celebrate with me?" she asked, feigning hurt. She was moderately disappointed, if truth be told.

"One of us has to drive home," he pointed out calmly. "And we're no good to Jack in jail."

She clicked her tongue and shook her head ruefully. "Yeah, I can't go back there."

"I'll do what I can to keep you out of any marinas," he assured her playfully.

"Very funny. You're very funny. Were you funny in court?" she mused.

"I was effective in court," he informed her. "I did fairly well at litigation, but I had an unbeatable record when I switched sides. I was very motivated."

"And still you decided it just wasn't for you?" she asked, enjoying the feeling that if she asked him a question, he'd answer it just as easily and without evasion.

"I got an offer I couldn't refuse at the right time. You know something about that," he reminded her.

"Yeah, I guess I do," she said as the waitress brought their drinks. Rory held up her shot to the midpoint of the table and waited for him to raise his beer. "To the unavoidable lure of politics," she said as they clinked glasses. She downed her shot quickly, forgetting how fast and hard it would hit her. It had been quite some time since she'd done a shot. She grabbed the lime and sucked on it as she sputtered.

"Good?" he stifled a laugh as he watched her react to her drink.

"I remembered being able to do that with a little more grace," she said with a slight cough. "Maybe this place was a bad idea. I'm feeling old."

"You're still in the range where it's acceptable to attempt to relive some of your glory days," he assured her.

"Glory days," she cringed. "I hope that's not true. I mean, I had a good time in college, but it seems a shame that the best years of my life might be behind me already."

"You need another shot. You're starting to depress me," he said, making a circular motion in the air to the waitress, and then pointing to the empty glass in front of Rory.

"And you think getting me drunk will cheer you up?" she asked, half amused at the idea.

"It probably can't hurt. Don't worry, I won't let you do anything you'll regret," he assured her, though his tone was still light and words quick.

"That makes me feel so much better, thank you," she rolled her eyes. She couldn't help but wonder if he knew what would cause her regret. She leaned her chin on the palm of her hand and purposefully fixed her attention on him. "Can I ask you another question?"

He considered the request and shrugged. "Knock yourself out."

She hesitated, wishing her next round had already appeared. "Why didn't you want Jack to hire me?"

"Ah," he nodded and took another drink. "I figured you wouldn't just let that pass."

"Did you really think I'd be that bad at it? Or was there someone else you had in mind?" she ran through the possible scenarios she'd come up with.

He pulled his upper lip through his teeth and met her eyes. He remained relaxed against the back of his seat. "It honestly had nothing to do with your qualifications. When Jack mentioned your name for the position, I knew you'd probably be great at it, because that's how you were with everything you did. You tackled things. But at the same time, that's why I didn't want you for the job."

She blinked in confusion. "What? I know I've only had the one shot, but that made no sense whatsoever."

He waved a hand off to the side, indicating it didn't matter. "You shouldn't worry about it. It was my hang up," he assured her. "Besides, I was wrong to protest it, since we're here celebrating how great you are at it."

"I thought we were celebrating what a great team we make," she eyed him, wondering if he would start to retreat into his shell at any moment.

"That tequila must agree with you, now you're sharing the glory," he smirked.

"It's not the tequila, and you still didn't answer why you didn't want me for this position," she reminded him.

His eyes widened for a moment, as he paused, frustrated with himself. "I just still pictured you as the girl I knew at Chilton. That girl was so intrinsically good and morally incorruptible," he explained. "I guess I didn't know quite how to meld the two versions of you in my mind. Vetting you didn't make the task any easier."

She sat back. She'd never hear anyone describe her that way. She'd wondered why her conviction and her sexting with Logan had hit such a nerve with him, when she thought that the guy she remembered from high school would be more accepting of such things. "I'm still me. I'm just the adult version. No one can stay that sheltered forever."

"I didn't mean that to sound like I think you're morally bankrupt now or anything. Just less inhibited than I had envisioned," he explained thoughtfully.

She smiled as she set up the newest shot the waitress had brought over. "The tequila helps with that."

"Don't worry, the second one goes down much smoother than the first," he advised.

"That I seem to remember," she agreed before downing the shot in a much less expressive manner. She relied less heavily on the lime after the subsequent shot. "So, we've figured out who I am; who exactly are you these days?"

He smiled, amused at her slight loss of inhibition. "I believe I'm a guy who lives alone and works too much," he quoted.

"Did you just quote me back to me?" she asked in surprise.

"You're the writer; I'm sure it's happened before."

She searched her memory. "No. Well, people have read lines of my work back to me before. I'm not sure it's the same thing. Besides, I didn't write that, I said it."

He raised an eyebrow at her rambling. "Do you miss writing?"

She shook her head slowly. "How could I? I write all day long."

"You know what I mean. Journalism was your first love. Is that the offer you got, to go back to it?"

Her breath caught. She'd purposefully not told him details about the offer, especially since it happened after their last kiss. "No. It was," she hesitated, wishing she had something else to do but sit there in front of him and try not to look at him. She gave up and made eye contact. "Jack wants me to head his communication department if he gets elected."

"You were right. That is a great offer," he leaned forward against the table in interest. "Especially if you ever wanted to work in the White House one day," he pointed out.

"I know what it means. But it's a lot to consider," she shrugged. "I haven't answered him yet."

"So you do miss journalism," he nudged.

She shook her head and looked at him once again. "Everything's changed. Nothing that I used to want, nothing that used to be so important in my life really seems all that vital anymore. It's like I don't know what I was running toward all those years, even though it all led me here. It's unnerving, still, in some ways. Jack's offer is really tempting, but I need time to think about it."

"At least you know what you'd be getting into. You know the lifestyle, the pace, the people," he continued, in an attempt to help her sort out the details.

"You're staying with him," she said. It wasn't a question, in either of their minds.

"I am."

"You're really going to stay in the shadows?" she asked, not understanding how he'd come to choose his path any more than she understood how she'd ended up on her own.

"I want to be where I can do the most good. For now, that's with Jack. I can't imagine I've given you the impression that I'm half the man he is. I'm not candidate material. I don't have the kind of past that lends itself to media scrutiny."

"Are you referring to your history of impulsively kissing random women?" she asked, the alcohol loosening her lips and her freedom with words a little more than she'd anticipated.

"You really think I'm impulsive and you're random?" he asked, suddenly serious in a way that made her stomach drop what felt like a foot and butterflies shoot up in its place.

"I think I've reached my tequila limit," she pressed her lips together and stared down at her empty shot glass with the savaged lime rinds discarded next to it.

"You're ready to go?" he asked, drawing her attention back up to him.

"You wanted to show me what you used to do around here for fun," she said, attempting to lighten the mood again. She definitely felt tension, though it wasn't of the angry variety. She watched as he stood up from his place across from her and stepped to the side of the table.

He held out a hand to help her up, in case her shots had made their way to her head. She took his hand though she felt clear-headed enough to walk just fine. "It's all the way over at Sterling. You know that fountain, in the courtyard?"

She nodded as she remembered the location. "I used to study in that courtyard on nice days."

He smirked. "We used to go down there at night and use the fountain as our own personal kiddie pool. But we're nowhere near drunk enough to attempt that," he said, his hand at his chin, his index finger swiping at his bottom lip thoughtfully.

"No, I'm definitely not that drunk," she repeated, her eyes taking in the lines of his face—his strong jaw, his angular cheeks, the curve of his lips. "But we should probably be getting back."

He nodded, looking down at her in a heavy silence. They didn't speak until they were back in his car, not having discussed exactly where they were headed back to. He could drop her at her apartment, which would probably be wisest; or he could take her back to her grandparents. She could stay overnight there easily, though with the knowledge she'd have to explain their sudden departure to Richard and Emily in the morning, and then take back possession of her car. There was a third option, which she couldn't imagine was likely even though he had taken her over there earlier, of taking her back to his apartment. She shivered in her seat, and she rubbed her hands up and down over her upper arms.

"I forgot my wrap at your apartment," she said suddenly.

He glanced over at her as he drove. Before he spoke, he shrugged out of his suit jacket and handed it to her. "Until we get back to my place," he offered as he turned the car's heater on.

"Thanks," she said and slipped the jacket around her shoulders. It was roomy in a way that she enjoyed; the way a man's clothes should fit her body. It wasn't so large she got lost in it, but it encased her and made her warm. She pulled it closed in front over her dress, wondering if it was one of the suits that had hung in their compartment on the train. "You're not just some guy that lives alone and works too much," she informed him as she turned to face him. He continued to drive, but he did take the time to focus on her for a moment.

"You've got me all figured out now, do you?" She couldn't read his even tone, but he didn't seem to be shutting her down. He was more pensive than anything else.

"I think I'm starting to. Aren't I?" she asked with her voice genuinely hopeful.

"We work well together," he answered slowly and safely.

"We do more than that," she said softly.

"Rory," he breathed out slowly. "You've been down this road before. You already know it's a bad idea. Please try to remember that, because you're killing me."

She sat back, not sure whether to be hurt, confused, or just indignant. "Excuse me? What road?"

"Your ex," he said, keeping his eyes on the road.

"Logan?" she asked, incensed. "This has nothing to do with Logan. I have not been kissing Logan. I'm not slightly intoxicated in a car, wearing Logan's jacket."

"But you were at one time, right?" he asked. "And look how that turned out."

"So what? You used to be married!"

He turned to give her a look that rattled her. "And you decided that you didn't want to be married to a guy like him."

"That's why you left my apartment that night? Because I'm not the marrying kind?"

"No! God, you don't get it at all," he said, now barely able to keep his voice down.

"Then enlighten me. Why are you kissing me one minute and freaking out the next? This can't have anything to do with Logan," she huffed. "I don't even understand why you seem to have such an issue with him. You'd probably get along really well."

"Yeah, I'm sure we'd have a swell time," he said flippantly, pulling the car into his parking garage. He turned to face her once the car was parked. "What happens if we did let things escalate? Think about it. It'll affect our work, and it'll get messy. Is that what you want?"

Her mouth went dry. She'd given that thought plenty of consideration. "We could be discreet."

"Could we?" he asked, leaning in dangerously close to her. He took his time letting his eyes search hers and studied her up close. "I've never been very good at that."

"I don't know, I just," she closed her eyes and her tongue wet her lips. He hadn't backed away when she opened her eyes again. "I think I want to find out."

"Don't say I didn't warn you," he uttered before his lips came crashing against hers. If he had been fighting the urge before now, he had let go with a wondrous release. His lips were warm against hers, and she attempted to slide further into him only to be met with the stick shift against her leg.

"I'm not sure the car is the most discreet or comfortable place for this," she managed as his lips trailed across her jaw toward her neck.

"All the furniture you were so impressed with earlier includes a bed," he offered a solution as his nose nudged her cheek, and she responded by kissing him again, their lips parted and his tongue stroking hers in a way that made her grip the seat beneath her.

"Let's go."

XXXX

The night before kept coming back to her in flashes as she lay in bed, even before she opened her eyes.

Him kneeling at the edge of the bed, with his eyes caressing her body. The aching drag of his skin across hers as they moved against one another. The tension of his is teeth tugging on her lip as she cried out. The weight of his head buried into her shoulder when he couldn't hold back any longer.

She knew the moment she opened her eyes, she'd have confirmation that it hadn't all been just a very vivid dream. Sure enough, as her eyes lifted to take in the sight of his bedroom, she pulled the top sheet up over her very bare chest. She was struck with one overwhelming question.

She leaned down off the edge of the bed to grab her phone out of her purse that had been dropped on the floor the night before and wished she'd had time to replace her stupid cracked phone as she pulled it from the bag. She hit the first number on speed dial and waited.

"Good morning. How was dinner with the in-laws?" Lorelai joked.

"Awful, but we'll get to that later. I'm in sort of a situation here."

"Okay, hit me."

"I spent the night at Tristan's last night, and I'm still here, but he's not," she said in a quiet tone, despite the fact that there was no sight or sound of him.

"Oh, so you meant literally. Okay. Wait, he left his apartment?"

"I don't know. He could be in the living room, or he could be at the office. I have no idea where he is, that's my point. I don't know his usual morning routine, or if he even has one. I woke up alone. And it's not like this was exactly planned."

"I'm so proud; my only daughter would think to call me before she takes her walk of shame. At least you only have to walk across the street."

"You aren't being helpful here. Oh my God, he was right. This is going to be a huge mess. We can't be sleeping together. We work together. A lot. Involving long hours on a very high-profile campaign. I'm an idiot."

"So, he was good?" Lorelai inferred.

"Oh my God," Rory groaned again, pressing her face into the pillow she'd used all night. She raised her head as she realized at one point she'd used it as a buffer from the hard wood of the headboard. She tossed it off the bed. "What am I doing to do?"

"I think you need to find out if he's there before you start to freak out about everything else."

"It's really quiet in here," she said, looking around once again.

"Most people aren't that noisy in the morning, it's a quiet time. Especially if they have a sleeping person in their bed that they are trying not to wake up. He's probably just drinking coffee and reading the paper. It's what most people do when they get up."

"I'd smell coffee. And he doesn't get his mail delivered here, or his paper. He gets the paper delivered to the office."

"Look who knows so much about the man she just had inappropriate sex with."

"He tried to tell me. I wouldn't listen. I _hate_ tequila."

"Honey, if that were true, you wouldn't be waking up naked and alone in some guy's bed. I wish this wasn't a 'trust me, I've been there' kind of moment, but at least you know it happens to the best of us."

"I didn't sleep with him just because of the tequila. At least, not completely because of the tequila. We were celebrating, after the dinner, because Jack's numbers went up, and dinner had been awful, and then we were talking and drinking, and he was really talking. He wasn't just turning everything back on me. Then he gave me his jacket, and I just," she closed her eyes, and she was struck with the vision of him hovered over her; his head lowering to tantalize her parted mouth as his lower body descended down between her legs, pushing slowly up inside of her. "And now I'm sure our ability to work together is ruined."

"Why?"

"Because, clearly I have no self-control when it comes to him. How are we supposed to act normally around each other now?"

Lorelai let out a low whistle. "That answers my 'was he good' question."

"It doesn't really matter if he was good—it matters that I should have left it to my imagination."

"Whoa, wait a minute. If this little conjugal activity had been flitting around your imagination, then you can't say last night took you by surprise. You've been picturing him naked for weeks now, admit it."

"I will not. I need to go. I still have to find my clothes and get to work, regardless of if he's here to make awkward conversation with or not."

"Good luck. On the clothes and the conversation. And if he really did just go to work and leave you there, I think you know where he stands on how it will affect work."

Rory groaned again. She could still feel him kissing her stomach and the way his hands had held down her hips as she'd began to rock them when his mouth descended lower on her body. "Yeah. I guess you're right. I'll call you later, okay?"

Rory hung up and sat up in the bed, taking a visual inventory of the room. She saw her dress haphazardly slung over the back of a chair in the opposite corner of the room. One shoe was by the door, and the other was at the edge of the bed. Her underwear wasn't in sight, and while it wasn't necessary for her walk across the street, the thought of him finding it later gave her the motivation to enact a search on their behalf.

She was knelt down on the floor, craning down with her head underneath his bed, in effort to find the lost item when the bedroom door softly clicked open. She stilled and slowly raised her head up to see him standing in the doorway, in running shorts and a t-shirt that was damp around the collar. He looked as if he wasn't sure if he should be concerned or amused.

"Lose something?" he asked.

"As a matter of fact, several things; not limited to my dignity, my common sense, and my underwear. Those are just the three that top the list at the moment."

"Are any of those under my bed?" he inquired with an amused smile. He stepped into the bedroom and stripped his shirt up off his body and tossed it into his hamper. She sat back on her heels, watching as he walked around the bed shirtless and crouched down next to her. She firmed her grip on the sheet she'd stripped off the bed and wound around her body. He looked at her in earnest. "You want me to help you look?"

"Well, you were the one that took them off," she said in an accusatory fashion, although she hadn't exactly minded the night before.

"They were in my way," he smiled. "What about the other two things?"

"They might be gone for good. Or at least misplaced temporarily."

"Long enough for you to join me in the shower?" he asked, bending just enough at the neck to kiss her exposed shoulder.

Her eyes closed. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

He lifted his head and returned his eyes to hers. "You looked peaceful. I didn't want to disturb you. I go for a run every morning, and I needed the time to think. I did bring you back something, if it's any consolation."

"A shower buddy?" she teased.

He smiled. "That too," he said, standing and offering his hand to pull her up off the floor as she hung onto the sheet. "You want a robe or something a little easier to manage?"

"I'm fine. I'll just sit back in bed."

He nodded. "I'll bring in your coffee. I didn't want to disturb you if you were still asleep."

"You brought me coffee?" she asked with pleased surprise.

"I wanted you to be focused. And I wasn't sure if you were feeling the effects of those shots."

She shook her head briefly. "I'm okay. But I do appreciate the coffee."

She watched as he walked back out of the room, leaving the door open. She bit her lip, wondering just what was going on. Were they at peace with that had occurred the night before? Was he suddenly okay with their physical interaction? He'd had no trouble last night, that was for sure. His voice resonated in her mind, the way he'd said her name as they rocked together in each other's arms, his blue eyes so intent on hers.

Their night together certainly hadn't cleared her mind of him. If anything every last caress from the previous night was weaving into all her attempts at rational thinking. He returned a moment later, offering her a cup of coffee from a shop down the street as he sat with one knee folded toward her on the bed.

"So. Loss of dignity and common sense. The underwear I understand, but the other two don't sound positive," he led with concern lining his forehead.

She held the warm cup between her hands. "I don't regret it. But I keep trying to think of what happens now, and I'm drawing a serious blank."

"When I told you this wasn't a good idea, I wasn't referring to the during part. I was focusing solely on the after part."

She eyed him sidelong with a small smile. "Yeah, I don't have any complaints about the during part."

He smiled knowingly. "I hope not. You certainly weren't objecting at the time."

"All right, can we please put your ego aside, considering it fully stroked, and figure out what to do now?" she asked as she fidgeted in the sheet that was pulling underneath her thigh and kept coming loose from her attempt to tuck it securely over her chest.

"If you keep talking about stroking my ego like that, I'm going to be forced to show you the net result of your actions," he warned in a husky tone.

She blushed. "I don't think our having sex every time you have a dirty thought will be very conducive to us doing our jobs."

"Yeah, that could get time consuming," he reasoned with levity.

"Please be serious. This is bad, right? I mean, we can't exactly go public with any kind of association outside of work, can we?"

He studied her closely. "Would you want to?"

She traced the top of the lid with two fingers. "I need to know the situation."

"The situation is that it's a grey area. Professionally speaking, it would be best if we could move on from this point and act like it never happened. Well, if it'd never happened, that would be ideal. I thought you understood this was a bad idea, but I knew after that second kiss, the way you looked at me," he blew out a breath. "I've never met anyone who could get under my skin like you do. The more I tried to focus on work and not think about you, the more I found excuses to see you. When I see you, I want to touch you. And when you look at me like you're doing now," he leaned over and took the still full cup from her hands and put it on the nightstand. He turned back to her and put one hand over where her hand was once again holding the errant sheet. Her fingers loosened at his touch, and he leaned his forehead against her temple, brushing his nose gently against her cheek. She turned to kiss him as the sheet fell away.

He slipped his other hand up into her hair, running his fingers through the strands like a comb. She felt the immediate stirring of lust swell up, catching her like a wave. Her hands now free of guarding her modest covering, she placed her hand on his chest, over his heart. "That sounds like it could be a problem," she managed once his mouth had moved on to her collarbone.

"It's inconvenient," he admitted between kisses.

She ran a hand over his cheek, the pads of her fingers dragging slightly against his stubble. It struck her that this was him at his most vulnerable, something she'd never seen before. There was no agenda, no suit, no guarded pasts; just him being with her, because neither of them had been able to hold back any longer. "Sounds like I got what I asked for."

He kissed her lips once more. "You deserve more."

She smiled into another kiss. "So give me more," she spoke against his lips.

In response to her command, he slipped one hand under her back, coaxing her down as he moved over her. His lips were eager against her neck, and his hands held her firmly against him. She parted her legs to make room for his knee, which she used as an anchor to grind against as his mouth found other areas to explore.

"I thought we were going to shower," she managed between heavier breaths.

He lifted his head up and smiled at her. "Greedy and impatient. I knew you had flaws."

"You don't have to be so happy about it," she glared at him.

"If you think I'm happy now," he smiled as he went back to the task she'd interrupted. Her fingernails dug into his back, and her hands slid down the tight muscles along his spine as he made her happy as well.

XXXX

Rory opened the door to the main headquarters with hesitation, as if she expected something to be different upon her arrival. She wasn't sure if she thought that her later than normal appearance would catch someone's attention or if the events of last night were somehow evident in her expression, but she still darted her eyes around the room as she walked through the main room back toward her office. She leaned to check to see if anyone else was in the private offices; Tristan's door was shut and the light was on, which made sense that'd he'd beaten her in after dropping her at her grandparents' house to retrieve her car. After a quick and apologetic escape from the Gilmore residence, she'd then ran an errand and gone back home for a change of clothes before walking to work. Jack's door was open, but his light was off. She took a deep breath and flipped on the light in her office. She pulled out her new phone and put it on the desk as she turned on her computer.

A quick knock made her jerk her head up. "Oh, hey."

Tristan leaned into the door frame from the hallway. "You have that meeting at three?"

She nodded. "Yeah. You?"

"Jack's serving lunch at a shelter on the other side of town. I'm meeting him there, then we're meeting with some contributors."

"The day in the life of a candidate," she nodded briefly.

His face registered unease. "I just wanted to let you know that if you need me, you'll have to reach me on my cell, since I'll be out the rest of the day. This is the time in a campaign when things start coming out of the woodwork. People who think they have information with some sort of leverage wait until things are down to the wire to leak. With the fundraiser, and Jack on the rise, we have to be on high alert."

She nodded sharply. "Right. If I hear anything," she began.

"Let me know right away," he finished emphatically.

"Of course," she chattered her back teeth for a second. "This is awkward."

He nodded. "I should go. You don't need me hovering."

She smiled. "Not at work."

He smiled at her meaning. "Right. My cell's on."

She continued to smile and watch as he departed her doorway. She idly opened her web browser and hit her bookmark for CNN. She picked up her cell and made her first call on her new phone.

"You do realize that every time you aren't perfectly behaved at my mother's house, she calls me to yell at me for bringing you up improperly, don't you?" Lorelai asked, forgoing a greeting.

"Well, you were the one that raised me."

"You're twenty-eight. I have no control over your uncouth behavior anymore. Not that I don't encourage it."

"You didn't tell her where I went last night, did you?" Rory asked, slightly aghast.

"No. She seemed to be under the impression that you and Tristan had a work emergency, not naked tequila time," Lorelai cleared her throat. "But either way, she was mostly just hurt at your hasty exit with no explanation. The end of the world is forthcoming—you missed crème brulee."

Rory smiled. "Yeah, I know."

"You sound really torn up about that."

"What can I say? I had my mind taken off of dessert."

"Oh, you had dessert all right," Lorelai insinuated.

"He came back," Rory informed her mother.

"Where did he go?"

"For a run. And for coffee."

"The coffee I understand. Why one would run without someone chasing them eludes me. Oh, unless he chasing the coffee?"

"Gypsy's right. You're just a strange lady."

"Says the woman who couldn't find her clothes this morning. Or the man she slept with."

"I found them both. Well, most of the clothes," she frowned, still wondering where her underwear had ended up.

"Gah! Okay, so he came back from his run and you two discussed how to handle the whole 'we're co-workers who just slept together' deal?"

Rory chewed her lip. They'd taken a detour from talking as they made their way from his bedroom to his bathroom. It certainly hadn't been the hot water alone responsible for the steam that had built up during their shower. "Eventually we did."

There was a motherly whimper on the line, then a sigh. "So what's the plan?"

"We're going to keep our private and professional lives separate," Rory declared smartly.

Lorelai laughed. The longer she laughed, the more concerned and disgruntled Rory grew. "What's so funny?" Rory inquired.

"Oh, wait. You're serious? That's 'the plan?'" Lorelai checked.

"Yes, it is. Why?"

"No reason. It's just… that's a terrible plan."

"It is not."

"Really? How is it going so far?"

Rory considered the question. "Fine. He was just in here, and we just talked about work."

"Just work? And it wasn't weird at all?" Lorelai probed.

Rory paused again. "We'll get better at it. It's still very new."

"Right. Well, whatever you do, just be sure to not lose all your tension."

"Our tension?"

"Uh, yeah. Have you learned nothing from classic television predicaments?"

"Apparently not," Rory frowned as she stared blankly at her computer screen, intent only her mother's voice.

"Think about all the shows that keep the two main characters apart for years, even though they're clearly at the ready to jump each other in broad daylight by the time they _finally_ get together," Lorelai explained.

"What does that have to do with me and Tristan?" Rory asked, still doubting her mother's parallelisms.

"Like you and Tristan," Lorelai began, "before these characters finally have sex, it's painfully obvious to everyone but them that they are attracted to one another, and that produces a lot of tension when they're around each other."

Rory couldn't exactly refute that point. "So, you think that we need to play up the tension, or else everyone will assume that we had sex? Why wouldn't they assume we'd just come to a point where we respected the other and that dissipated the tension?"

"He better respect you," Lorelai offered, unable to play the best friend role to her daughter all of the time.

"He does. I think. I mean, he was respectful," Rory explained as her eye caught a headline on the newsfeed, halfway down the main page of CNN's website. "Oh, no! No, no, no!" she exclaimed in horror.

"What's wrong?" Lorelai asked, alarmed at her daughter's sudden interjections.

"I have to go. I have to call Tristan," she said quickly before she hung up and clicked the link to the main story. She shoved a fingernail between her teeth, worrying it as she pressed his name on her phone and scanned the article.

"Hey."

"It's me. We have a problem," she said instantly.


	11. Could've Been Worse Than You Would Ever

Story Title: No Way Back

Chapter Title: Could Have Been Worse Than You Would Ever Know

Description: Rory Gilmore gets tangled up in the other side of politics, but is she prepared to tangle with all it entails? Not if Tristan Dugrey has anything to say about it.

Rating: M

AN: Hello, again. Yes, I'm mean. Sorry, I do cliffhangers now and again. You're going to yell again at the end of this one, but I put in more naked time to appease the stress of it all. Title is from a Modest Mouse song, _Dashboard_.

"Where are you?" Rory asked curtly.

"In the car. What happened?" he asked, on alert at the sound of her voice.

"I'm sending you a link," she informed him.

"How bad?" he inquired, his voice tight.

"You're the expert, but it's certainly got some punch to it," she breathed out, irritated that such an off-handed, ignorant opinion could have the power to cost them a major affiliation and innumerable voters.

There was a pause while he received the information, and she assumed he was reading the article. "Son of a bitch," he muttered under this breath.

"We need to reach out to them immediately before we do anything else?" she checked.

He sighed into the phone. "For starters, yes, as a sign of good faith and reassurance that they will continue to have Jack's support no matter what. After they lost all that funding, they're ready to hit the warpath all over the country at stuff like this. What a fucking idiot this guy is."

"What else can I do?" she asked, making notes already as she spoke into the phone.

"Start prepping an official statement on the matter, from our camp. The usual; we don't share the view, this person spoke completely on their own, without regard to our goals and beliefs, etc. In fact, I'll need you up there with Jack when he delivers it, as a show of support from women in general. See if you can get a rep from Planned Parenthood to stand up there next to him as well, after the apology is presented to them. I'll fill Jack in when I get to the kitchen, I'm almost there."

"Got it. What about this guy, Senator Ross?"

"You can contact his office, if you feel like warning them they'll be hearing from me. If he were smart, he'd be expecting it anyway. The guy's a dinosaur, but Jack respects him because he's been in office forever. I'm not sure women had the right to vote when he first got into office," Tristan joked scornfully.

"I'm sure if anyone can set him straight, it's you," she said, more out of habit than assurance.

There was another pause on the line. "Usually when you say that, it doesn't sound so complimentary. That time it nearly sounded like you appreciate my talents."

"We can't have that," she chided. "Though in this case, I kind of hope you're mean to him."

"One more thing," he added, "This is out there, so there'll be an influx of people trying to contact the office today; reporters, concerned citizens, contributors, all of it. I'm hoping our immediate action will squelch some of that, but have something ready to parrot out to anyone that comes calling. If it starts to blow up, contact me. I'll be in touch."

"I've got this," she said confidently.

"Thanks for finding this so quickly. I'm here, I have to go."

She hung up and began pulling up all the numbers she'd need for damage control. She was glad she'd spent so much time prepping for her meeting the day prior; the rest of her day would be swallowed up by dealing with one outburst that some politician had tossed out in a public forum. It wouldn't have been connected to Jack, had Jack not been openly approved by the elder Senator. She knew the best place to start was with the wronged party and dialed the number for the proper contact at the regional Planned Parenthood organization.

XXXX

It was well after seven in the evening. Rory stretched her back; she'd spent too much time sitting after a night on an unfamiliar mattress—not to mention the general lack of sleep she'd obtained due to their time spent attending to one another. She finally took note of the time and realized her stomach was grumbling because she'd missed dinner. She'd barely had lunch, and breakfast had consisted of a cup of coffee, which seemed like she'd ingested days ago. That was also the same amount of time that seemed to have passed since she'd seen Tristan, even though he'd left the office just that morning.

There was a knock from the hall, and she brightened. She still had work to finish before she could leave, but seeing him would be a welcome fix—especially since he'd barely left her mind all day, even as she dealt with the Ross crisis. "Come in," she invited.

The door opened to reveal a face she certainly recognized but had not expected. The man making his way leisurely into her office wore a suit and an amused grin on his face, but he bore no other resemblance to Tristan Dugrey.

"Rory Gilmore. What the hell are you doing in politics?"

She cocked her head. "Robert Grimaldi. In my office. I can only assume you have just cause."

He glanced around the confines of the room. "Nice digs. I've never had to deal with the whole vying for office act. My set up is a lot more comfortable. At least you have a chair for me to sit in. It's now always the case with you hopefuls. Kent must have some money if you're not in a supply closet."

"Why are you here exactly?" she asked, her irritation growing as he seemed to round further from his intentions for darkening her doorstep.

"I'm here to discuss our problem," he spoke with a confident ease, but she knew that was just his natural demeanor. The building could be on fire and he'd still be unbuttoning his jacket and sitting down as if it were all as he expected it to be.

"We have a problem?" she asked warily. She'd had enough crisis management for one day. She didn't need whatever Robert wanted to add to it.

He smiled wider. "Dugrey's been calling me all day. I came to chat with him in person, but as my luck would have it, I found you instead. I do feel fortunate indeed. He's a pain in the ass, and you are so very easy on the eyes."

She rolled her eyes at his compliment, meant to undercut his stock in her abilities, no doubt. "Tristan's been calling you all day? Just where are you set up at these days?" she asked, recycling his phrasing from before.

He smiled. "It's a pity we never had the chance to get to know each other better. I always liked you. Do you still talk to Huntz? Or did he take the whole matter of you turning his proposal down like a little bitch?"

Rory steeled herself. Robert tended to find amusement where others found pain or regret. It had been interesting once upon a time, in limited quantities, but she'd always thought that Logan's dislike of him had been due to jealousy. She'd used it to her advantage, at any rate. She might have felt guilty about that, if Robert would have found it anything other than fun to be a part of his cohort's misery and torment. "We parted on friendly terms. I hear he's doing just fine in California."

"Ah, California. I prefer the east coast. Can't picture myself leaving. But then, I do have a number of interests here. I suppose we should get to business. I'm here on behalf of my grandfather. I'm afraid he went shooting off his antiquated mouth after missing some of his pills and forgot what year it was. He likes Jack; he didn't mean to blow holes in your campaign."

"Your grandfather is… Senator Harold Ross?" she asked as she put the pieces of the puzzle he was offering together.

Robert smiled, again, happy to have caught her off guard. "Yes, the rich old man who won't kick off to allow someone to take his Senate seat or bequeath any of his piles of money to his family; that's my Gramps. As I was the only one to pass law school and the bar on their first try, I got handed the job of babysitting his affairs as his staff director. It's not as thrilling as it was thirty years ago, I'm told, when he was a lot handsier with the interns and took more three-hour martini lunches, but now he's started spouting off things that wouldn't have gotten him anything but a slap on the wrist for admitting in public in his heyday, and the net result is that Dugrey's got a bug up his ass. Or he really just misses the sound of my voice."

"Your grandfather agreed with a right-wing Republican who described Planned Parenthood as being murder chambers, disguised as women's health care clinics. He said that women tended to suffer from hysterics more than anything else. He all but used the word vapors and implied we should be seen and not heard!" she exclaimed with wide eyes and crossed arms.

"The man has had six wives. He's not known as being terribly up on women's issues. He's a figurehead, because people like stability, even if it's a crazy old man providing it," Robert said, not bothering to defend the older statesman past his own failings.

"He needs some real competition then," Rory muttered, her annoyance holding.

"I concur. But your boy Kent is going for governor, not Senate. Too late in the game to switch now. You have any other suggestions?"

She narrowed her eyes. "You're excited about the idea of him losing his seat?"

He blew out some air. "Listen, he's an unpredictable windbag, I'd be lucky to get rid of him. It's not like I'd be out of a job for long. I love politics. God, the carnage. It's like watching a train wreck, every goddamn day," he explained with glee.

Rory frowned. "Logan was right. There is something wrong with you."

"Ah, Logan. I should call him and tell him how ravishing you look when you're angry. That would get a rise out him, even if you two are on friendly terms. How friendly are those terms?"

"What in the hell are you doing here?" came Tristan's voice from the hall. He didn't wait to be invited to join the conversation; he was in the middle of the room as Robert stood up.

"He says he was looking for you," Rory glowered at Robert.

"Aw, come on now. You can't hate me just because I love my job. You told me I was fascinating once."

"I also agreed to go on a date with you. I don't see either of those things happening again."

Robert frowned at his bad luck. "Damn. And here I was hoping I could get you to join me for dinner. I'm starving."

Tristan shot Rory a side-long glance. "You went out with him?"

Rory waved her hand. "We went to a party for a mutual friend. It was in college."

Robert smiled. "She was the only girl that didn't spook when I told her my hopes and dreams. I should have proposed to you that night; especially after I spied you letting Huntz feel you up back by the bathrooms. That would have put a little more fight into him, if you'll pardon the pun."

Tristan's eyes hardened. "I assume you're not here to stroll down memory lane. I've been calling you all day."

Robert yawned. "I know. I talked to the old man. He loves Jack, and he's sends his regrets."

"We need a retraction, and an apology," Tristan began.

Robert made a clucking sound. "Ah, ah, ah. Not going to happen. I tried to tell him he'd been bad, but he's past his expiration date. The old man could care less who he pisses off. He says that he sent Julie there in '73 and it's, and I quote, 'the biggest mistake I ever made.'"

Rory stood with her mouth agape. "Who's Julie?"

Robert shrugged. "Some skirt he knocked up, would be my guess. It doesn't matter. The point is, he said what he said, and he's okay with his viewpoint. He wishes he could do more to help your man out," he explained before giving her a knowing look. "Are you sure you don't want to get dinner?"

"Get the hell out," Tristan pointed to the door. "If you can't control the old man, then we're cutting ties. Let it cost him votes and he'll see the error of his ways. And if he's that far gone, he shouldn't be in office anyhow, and you know it."

"Preaching to the choir, man," Robert patted Tristan's shoulder. "Can't convince you to get in the game, can I? Our fair Miss Gilmore was just lamenting that no one worthy was in the race against the old man. You'd sure as hell give him a run for all his money. Especially since I hear you didn't let Ashley suck you dry."

Tristan scoffed. "I wouldn't trust my campaign to you even if I thought I was guaranteed to lose."

Robert sighed. "Shame. I'm tired of the geriatric crowd. I need some fresh blood," he mused before turning to Rory. "Do you still have that outfit you wore to Finn's party?"

Rory stiffened and blushed. "Somewhere. Why?"

Robert smiled. "Just curious. Goodnight all," he said as he strode out into the hallway, leaving them alone in her office. Tristan shut the door unceremoniously behind him.

Rory turned and glared at the door. "He's creepy."

Tristan snorted. "And apparently you dated him?"

Rory rolled her eyes. "He asked me to a Tarantino-themed party. I only said yes to make Logan jealous. It was one evening."

Tristan took a step closer to her with an unreadable expression. "I didn't take you for a game player."

Rory shook her head. "I'm not. It was … it was before we'd started dating."

"And yet Robert said you disappeared in the middle of the party and let Logan touch you for a while?" he asked, his face giving away his distaste for the image.

Rory blushed under his scrutiny—and at the memory itself. "We had an agreement. We were just, you know. Casually seeing each other. And other people. Logan experienced an issue with seeing me with other people—Robert specifically."

His blue eyes fixed hard on hers. "You and Logan had an open relationship?"

She shook her head. "No, we didn't even have a relationship at that point. It was just sex."

"And Robert?" he asked while gritting his back teeth.

"I didn't sleep with Robert. I didn't even actually see anyone else at the time, either. And I called it off with Logan, shortly thereafter, or at least I tried to and he wouldn't let me. So we started dating exclusively."

"Why did you even agree to that in the first place?" he asked, not dropping the conversation despite her explanation.

"I didn't agree; it was my idea," she said, growing defensive as she was not certain why they were even discussing the matter at all, let alone at work.

"It was your—Jesus," he swore and turned away from her for a second.

"What is the problem? We have actual issues to deal with, with the lack of apology, and suddenly all you care about is that I had casual sex with Logan in college?" she asked in disbelief.

"I can handle Ross. And I care that it was your idea," he said firmly, his gesturing to make a point with his hand. "You looked down on everyone who acted like that."

"I liked him, and that's how he operated. I thought I could be different to be with him, and I was mistaken, so I told him that. We had an attraction, and it led to something more. What's so wrong about that?" she defended.

Tristan shook his head and held up a hand. "Nothing. Whatever. Look, I have some stuff to take care of. I have to go."

Rory frowned at his sudden detachment. "I was about to get dinner. Do you want to join me?"

He shook his head and made a point to not make eye contact. "I'm not hungry. Did everything go okay with the rep from Planned Parenthood?"

Rory nodded, unsure of what had actually transpired between them. He'd snapped from personal issues to work so rapidly, and she wasn't sure he had suddenly come to see things her way. "Yes. She's willing to come and meet with Jack and be there for a press op."

He cleared his throat. "Great. I'll see you later."

Rory watched as he left. She knew that discussing past relationships could be awkward, but if that's what was really bothering him, she couldn't even be sure. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. She gathered the remnants of what needed to get finished and decided that a change of location was in order.

XXXX

Rory yawned as she closed her computer. She'd come home a few hours ago and ordered takeout as she finished up last minute reminders for the fundraiser that weekend. She hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, and while she wasn't sure where things stood with Tristan, she knew things would still be unsettled in the morning. She was ready to move to her comfortable bed when there was a knock at the door.

She crossed her arms in defiance as she opened the door. "What are you doing here?"

He held out a bag of Chinese food. "I brought dinner."

"I already ate. It's nearly midnight," she informed him, not willing to make things so easy for him after how he'd left things in her office.

"Fine. Then I brought a midnight snack," he amended.

"Why should I let you in? Do you have work matters to discuss or did you want to attack my past personal choices that are none of your concern?" she asked, still hurt by the way he'd gone on about the nature of her relationship with her ex.

He sighed, clearly tired. "I was surprised, that's all."

She raised an eyebrow. "You were surprised? Try incensed."

"Can I come in? It's late and I really don't want to have this conversation in your hallway."

She sighed with discontent but allowed him entrance. He tossed the bag on her table and forgot about it. "The thought of you degrading yourself," he began, which instantly raised her hackles. Her mouth opened to protest, but he raised a hand in askance to hear him out, "for some guy because he wasn't smart enough to drop his playboy lifestyle and act like a man," he shook his head. "I don't want to hear why you did it or any other excuse for him. You deserved better than to have to ask to be one more girl in a line to sleep with him."

She glared at him. "I'm aware. Which is why that's exactly what I told him before he gave it all up for me. He wanted me just as much as I wanted him—maybe more."

He closed his eyes and took a breath. "I just hate the idea. I shouldn't have brought it up, especially at work. I admit that."

"Why is it so troubling that he and I started out casually?" she asked. "Surely you've dated more than one woman at a time in your past," she pressed.

He turned to face her, his features still intense. "Not one like you. I would have dropped everything else in my life if you'd even looked my way."

Now she was the one that was surprised. "I'm looking your way now."

"And I should be at the office. And yet," he stepped closer. "I couldn't stop thinking about you after I left you. I couldn't stop," he continued, reaching out to slide a hand down her arm, "wondering what outfit Robert was talking about."

"I went as GoGo," she informed him, as he closed in on her. His hands were on her hips, pulling her against him. Her hands rested on his chest, keeping him just at bay while still feeling his heat.

He breathed out with a hint of a laugh as his eyes flashed with want. "You used your old Chilton uniform?"

She nodded as her hand snaked up his neck. He let out a throaty growl and kissed her. She held tight against him, matching his intensity as he began to walk her backward through her own apartment. He used his foot to open the bedroom door and began ridding first her of her shirt before stripping down to his bare chest as well. She unfastened his pants and he let them fall as they staggered toward her bed. Her hands reached out for him, pulling him down to the bed on top of her. He crept up over her body, keeping his weight off of her as she leaned up, arching off the bed to achieve friction.

He brushed her hair back off her neck and shoulder, trailing his hand down past where the end of her dark locks fell against her fair skin. He dipped his head to kiss just below her shoulder. She watched as he slowed his pace, holding himself back from the rush with which he'd gotten her to that point. She slid one leg around the back of his knee, and held him as he touched her. His hand skimmed up her chest, making her want for more, and came to rest against her cheek. He dragged his thumb over her mouth, and she closed her lips and teeth for the briefest moment around the end of the digit.

"I thought about touching you all day long," he informed her, his voice deep and low.

"At work?" she baited him.

"Work kept me busy today, but not busy enough to forget last night."

His words evoked a surge in her chest, but she didn't smile despite her joy. She leaned up to kiss him and his hand slipped around to cradle the back of her head. She searched his eyes when they pulled apart with irregular breath. "You don't have to justify your work to me. It comes first," she said without guile.

"It's been a long time since anything's edged out work in my mind," he said as his hands slid back down her body, one tracing down the center of her body with a gentle but firm pressure.

She kissed him again. "New rule. If we're keeping this under wraps at work, then we don't have to talk about work when we get time alone," she suggested.

He paused to read her. "Is it that easy for you? You find it to be as simple as putting this away all day and leaving work at the office?"

Her breath left her. There was work on her table in her living room and she'd done nothing in still moments but think about how his hands felt on her body all day. More than wanting him to touch her, she had questions she wanted to ask him, in an effort to know him better that had no place to be discussed at work. Now that they were alone in her bed, she just wanted him to sink into her and forget everything else. She knew in the morning, they'd be back at the tasks they'd been assigned, struggling to keep from blurring the lines between work and play. She could tell herself they'd get better at keeping these things in check as time went on, but if they kept on like this, the opposite was more likely to be true.

"I'd had a thought that it might be you, when Robert showed up," she admitted. "Just being able to hear the sound of your voice, having a reason to call you, it," she shook her head. "I expected it to be easier."

He kissed her again, with much more force again, pushing every other thought out of her mind as she lost herself into him. What little cloth barriers had remained between them were stripped away in haste and he buried himself inside her swiftly, and then took a moment to hold her still around him. She held her breath as she waited, knowing that the stillness would break into a rhythm that would unravel her. His pull on her reminded her of the tides, and it was inevitable that they'd come crashing down like waves on the shore.

XXXX

She rolled over on one side, pulling the sheet up under her arm as she readjusted, and watched him as he slept. The sun was yet to dawn, and there were only shades of grey illuminating her bedroom. His form was so solid and sound next to her, and his hand remained molded to her hip, even in his sleep.

She tentatively reached up and brushed his hair to the side at the edge of his forehead. She allowed her knuckles to glide in featherlike fashion over his cheek. His hand tightened on her hip.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you," she whispered, but she wasn't sure who she was making the effort for, now that he was awake.

He opened his eyes and blinked sleep from them as he focused on her in the darkness. "Can't sleep?"

She shrugged one shoulder. "I rolled over and saw you were right there."

He pulled her in closer to his chest under the covers. "Did you want me to leave?"

She smiled. "No. It's just … nice. Having you here. Waking up to see you, I'm not used to it, but I just," she sighed and shook her head slightly. "I'm rambling."

He kissed her forehead as he closed his eyes. "It's the middle of the night."

"My alarm's set to go off in two hours."

He opened his eyes again. "I thought we said no work in bed."

"How does Robert know Ashley?" she asked, knowing that if she didn't ask her question then, she'd not get it out of her head until she could be alone with him again. It would be hard enough to put him out of her mind the next day as it was, without having that matter cleared up.

He brought a hand over his eyes to rub at them. He emitted a noise between a groan and a sigh. "We were all at Yale together. Robert and I were in the same class in law school."

"You and she were college sweethearts?" she inquired softly, not wanting to push him despite her interest.

He let out a laugh, but it had an underlying bitterness to it. "It wasn't as romantic as all that. We dated a little. There was a group of us that started out studying together, and we'd all go out sometimes. Her best friend was in law school with us, and she'd join in. She was in her last year of undergrad when I met her."

"Oh," she nodded, pressing her lips together.

"It's been over with her and I for a long time. It's not something you should worry about," he informed her simply as his hand gently soothed her side.

"You were married," she said with a note of sadness. "That's a big deal."

"Rory," he spoke with the deepness of sleep in his voice. "What happened with her and me, it was a mistake. It's something we can talk about at some point, but it has nothing to do with us."

She nodded. She didn't tell him why she understood, but it seemed like it was a much bigger deal than he was letting on. It wasn't just that they'd entered into this venture with baggage, but so much of their past relationships had formed how they set about living their lives. It had to enter into the equation at some point, whether they liked it or not. "You just seemed upset that Robert mentioned her name. I was just curious how you all were connected."

Tristan paused. "Robert likes to slam into people's buttons. It's how he gets off. He's kind of a jerk that way."

Rory smiled at the familiar words. "So I've noticed."

"If he hadn't been related to Ross, he'd be an ambulance chaser. People like him are the reason that politics stays dirty."

She considered his standpoint. "And yet he seems to think you're a viable candidate."

"I wouldn't want to get into office the way he'd try to get me there. And I never had any ambition to be a part of the Senate."

She put her hand softly against his chest, her thumb grazing back and forth against his skin. "You wanted to be a judge."

He continued to hold her gaze. "And you wanted to be a foreign correspondent."

"You can't always just turn these conversations back on me," she said in earnest.

"I'm done with explaining certain things to people," he clarified.

"You don't have to explain yourself to me. I just think it's a shame that you might be denying yourself the opportunity to go after your ambitions. You keep saying you're not the kind of man that could stand up to a campaign, but all I see when I look at you is exactly the kind of man who should."

He didn't say anything after her proclamation. He kept his arms around her, and she nestled her head against his chest. She closed her eyes, guessing he was done with the conversation and ready to claim what little time they had left to sleep. She listened to the sound of his heart beating under her ear. The steady rhythm should have lulled her to sleep, but the warmth of his skin against her cheek made her want to stay awake and enjoy the sensation of being so close to him.

"There are things I've done that I'm not proud of," he said at last. "And it doesn't matter if I was provoked or they were justified. I can't expunge my past the way you did with your record. I'd be a fool to think I could. I did my best to put it behind me, and now all I can do now is make better choices and do what I can to make a difference."

She lifted her head off of his chest. "You are. All you talk about is doing what you can to make things better by getting Jack elected. What about doing things to make things better for you?"

He smiled at her despite himself. "There are too many people out there doing bad things in the name of making things better for themselves. I found myself surrounded by them, and trust me; it's no way to live. That's why I left my law career and signed on to get Boyd elected."

"You mean people like your dad?"

"For one, yes," he nodded thoughtfully. "Everyone thinks I helped put him away because he drained my trust fund, to get back at him."

She eyed him with concern. "You don't seem to want money."

He smiled again at her defense of him. "I don't hate money. I hate what it did to him. He destroyed our family. He destroyed the trust that so many people had placed in his hands. And he didn't even care. He just didn't want to get caught. He needed to be removed from his position of power—he needed to answer for what he did. First I thought working to put people like him away was enough, but I realized then that I needed to do whatever I could to get people who deserved to be in positions of power elected."

"That doesn't mean you should exclude yourself," she nudged again.

"I'm not as noble as you want to make me out to be. Doing the right thing hasn't always worked out in my favor," he said guardedly. He brushed his lips over hers. "You should get some sleep. We have a long day tomorrow, and the fundraiser's this weekend."

She nodded and curled up against him again. "Will we get to see each other again before then?"

"I told you, I can't be selfless all the time," he spoke softly into her ear, making her smile as she drifted off to sleep.

XXXX

That morning she woke up to the smell of coffee. She reached an arm out to the side of the bed he'd occupied when last she had been conscious, but she found nothing but sheets covering her mattress and a pillow under her seeking hand.

"Wrong way," came his voice from behind her.

She turned quickly to face him. "You've got to stop sneaking out of bed."

He sat on the edge of the bed next to her hip. She slipped her hand into his. "You really want me to wake you up before I run?"

She frowned. "No. It's just disconcerting, waking up alone after," she bit her lip. "You know."

He smiled. "Oh, I know, all right. And if I'm going to have the energy to keep doing that, I need to run. And you need this," he said, handing her coffee.

She sat up against her pillow and took a long sip. She closed her eyes and sighed happily. "Thanks."

"I need to go change. Jack's insisting on going down to D.C. to talk to Ross, which means we're taking the early train. We'll be back just after lunch, and we'll meet you at the venue at one."

She nodded, but stopped to think. "I thought we were cutting ties with Ross."

He shrugged. "He wants to try to get Ross to recant. I told him the guy's off his mark, but he says loyalty is too often overthrown in politics and he hates to see this guy's record marred by a final fatal flaw."

"It's never too early for alliteration," she mused, taking another sip.

"What?" he asked.

She waved it off. "Nothing. Well, have fun with Robert. Try to play nice."

"How about if I get through the morning without slugging him, you promise me a reward?" he smirked.

"I feel like either way I'm rewarding bad behavior," she yawned, still waiting for the coffee to start to enter her bloodstream.

"I'm the lesser of two evils," he assured her.

She smiled at him. "I bet you say that to all the girls."

He leaned in, at the ready to kiss her. "Only the ones who know better."

She kissed him. "Mmmm. You did warn me."

He pulled back. "You taste like coffee."

"As often as possible," she nodded.

"I should go. About the things I said, concerning you and Logan," he began hesitantly.

She blew out air, not wanting to get back into it. "You've made your distaste clear," she assured him.

He paused in dismay. One hand that had been resting over the sheet on her knee ran up over her thigh. "I don't mean for it to sound judgmental."

She felt cooler now, more exposed. She'd been just as bare under her covers the moment before he brought the topic up again, and yet, now she wished for a greater level of protection. "You should work on that, then," she lowered her eyes to her coffee.

"I just don't understand. Any guy who wants you should want to give you everything they had, even if all they had to offer was their attention."

She raised her eyes again to him, as he remained at her side. Her hand came to rest over his. "Oh?"

He still looked troubled. "Our jobs are complicated and time-intensive, and I have no idea how often we'll get opportunities to be together like this. I just don't want you to think it's because I don't want to."

She smiled at him. "Okay."

His expression lightened, though disbelief seemed to be holding. "Yeah?"

She leaned up and slid her coffee on a stack of books on her nightstand. She slid her hands to his shoulders. "You found the one girl who works as much as you do. The one that thinks you look sexy in action. I know you'll come to me when you can."

"You have no idea how badly I want to be late this morning," he spoke as he began to kiss her. She kissed him back with fervor for a moment before pushing him back playfully.

"Not on my watch. I'd hate for Jack to think you were cheating on him," she teased.

"You really can snap from sex to work with ease, can't you?" he inquired

"Don't sound so put out. It works to your advantage, after all," she reminded him.

He stood. "You know, a lesser woman would ask me to quit; to choose her."

She was struck at the thought. "Jack needs you more than he needs me," she said quietly.

His expression turned pensive. "You'd be surprised who he'd choose, if he had to."

"It won't come to that," she said, mostly for her own peace of mind.

He shrugged. "I hope not. I'll see you later."

She nodded. "Yes. I'll be ten minutes behind you."

He walked back to the bed and kissed her before he left her room. She heard him shut her front door and she sat back against the pillows with her cup of coffee. Being with Tristan wasn't going to be anything like she'd ever experienced. She wasn't sure why he thought she knew what she was getting herself into. As much as he liked to have all the answers, it didn't mean that he'd been right that this would end badly, leaving one or both of them to deal with the negative consequences. The campaign wouldn't last forever, and she'd yet to accept a post with Jack after the election. It might be naivety, or a simply the post-coital glow speaking, but she had more than just a glimmer of hope that they had a potential future past this job.

XXXX

Rory had a giant checklist in front of her, and she was working through it on the phone with an efficient manager at the site of the fundraiser. Things were set up to work smoothly from all angles, but much of that came from all the intense preparation everyone was putting in. It was a major last push for financing before the end of summer and early fall efforts that would take place just prior to the election. She would leaving in an hour's time to meet Jack and Tristan and a security detail to approve some final details in person, but these were all details Jack didn't need to be bothered with. The man was busy enough in a multitude of other directions. Her job was encompassing enough in its fast pace and constant multi-tasking; she had true respect at that point for everything both Jack and Tristan dealt with on an hour-to-hour basis.

"Miss Gilmore?"

Rory held up a finger, indicating she was on the phone. She saw James the intern and put a hand over the receiver. "What's up?" she asked quietly.

"You have a visitor," he motioned behind him.

She nodded. "I'm almost done. Send them in," she nodded, figuring her mother was on her way in with a surprise lunch offer. She had an instant craving for a Luke's burger, but she doubted Lorelai would have made it in a car that far with two of those burgers. She needed to make time to sneak in a trip home soon.

She finished her list and thanked the person on the other end of the line before hanging up. She stood up and grabbed her purse, thinking she had just enough time for a quick lunch before heading over to the site.

She stopped in her tracks when her visitor stopped in her doorway. Instead of her near-doppelganger of a mother, it was someone related instead to Tristan.

"Judge Dugrey. Are you looking for Tristan?" she asked politely, sure that her hasty exit after his grandson was still in his mind from the last time they'd seen one another.

"Were you leaving?" he inquired, gesturing to her purse over her shoulder.

"I was thinking of it. Did you need something?"

He nodded. "I was wondering if I could buy you some coffee or lunch? Do you have time?"

She had not expected this. What would Tristan think of her having lunch with his grandfather? She knew that of all his family, he was on the best terms with his grandfather, but meetings with Mitchum Huntzberger loomed in her memory. "I was about to grab some food. I don't have much time," she warned.

"I promise not to take up much of your time," he assured her.

She noticed he had the same blue eyes as Tristan. He was handsome, in a more distinguished way than Tristan currently was. The Dugrey men were attractive in a classic way, which wore well with age it seemed. She remembered the thought that this man seemed to be the only one looking out for Tristan and, for that reason alone, she nodded in agreement.

"Sure. I can spare some time."

He smiled brightly. "Excellent. After you," he said gallantly, waiting for her to exit her office before following her out toward the exit.


	12. Things I Can't Repair

Story Title: No Way Back

Chapter Title: Things I Can't Repair

Description: Rory Gilmore gets tangled up in the other side of politics, but is she prepared to tangle with all it entails? Not if Tristan Dugrey has anything to say about it.

Rating: M

AN: Not much to add. This one isn't a cliffhanger, but it is quite angsty throughout. You all didn't think I'd give them a smooth ride yet, did you? The next chapter will be the fundraiser. Title's from Foo Fighters, again, and from the song I used as the story name, _No Way Back_.

Rory left her sandwich mostly untouched as she sat anxiously across from her lunch companion. She was seated at a table with Tristan's grandfather in a small, but fairly crowded café, a few blocks from the hotel where she needed to meet Tristan and Jack in less than an hour's time. They had exchanged pleasantries and discussed light topics such as his golf game with her grandfather and the weather, but not much else. Her phone buzzed for the third time in his presence, and she checked it discreetly before pushing the ignore button.

"It never stops ringing does it?" Janlan Dugrey asked knowingly.

She dropped the phone back down in her purse. "Sorry about that. I'm sure it's nothing that can't sit for a few minutes."

She failed to mention it was his grandson attempting to reach her, and she had no earthly idea if it was of a professional or private nature. She was operating on high alert, cagey at the idea of being alone with someone from Tristan's life without his knowledge.

"Please don't apologize on my account. I remember quite well what kind of toll an election takes. It's quite an involved job you have, and I've heard nothing but good things about your abilities."

She smiled politely. "My grandparents tend to exaggerate my good qualities. They are biased after all."

He gave a chuckle. "They are quite proud, but my grandson also seems to think highly of you."

She met his eyes, wondering just how much Tristan shared with his grandfather. "Is that so?"

He cleared his throat and easily leaned forward. "I know you're busy and I don't want to waste your time. May I be frank?"

She nodded, at the ready for whatever he might say. After all, she reminded herself, she'd gone to bat with Mitchum Huntzberger on more than one occasion. Nothing he could say could rattle her. She repeated that like a mantra, hoping it was true. "Of course."

He nodded and took a sip of water. After he placed the glass back on the table, he met her eyes in earnest. "I was taken with the way you handled my grandson at the dinner we shared. Well, I'm not sure how much you actually got to eat, with all the darting out the two of you did," he reasoned.

She did her best to keep her facial expressions even. "There were some work issues that cropped up," she began.

"In the bathroom?" Janlan inquired, a playful glint in his eyes.

Rory looked down, knowing he had either surmised certain things or Tristan had told him something of a personal nature concerning her. "We were trying not to disrupt the rest of the guests."

Janlan nodded. "I'm not sure how much you know about our family, though too many of our private affairs were made very public," he conceded, "but since that time, Tristan has had trouble coming together with our family. He's avoided it, at most costs, unless it was necessary."

She nodded. "He's inferred as much. He said he couldn't get out of the dinner invitation and he seemed affected after the funeral."

Janlan's face stilled, in grief, for a moment. "The funeral, yes, that was something that he wasn't able to avoid. But a dinner party? The very fact that he agreed to come to such a thing struck me as odd. His work requires him to keep irregular hours, and he's used it as an excuse to block out any personal matters he chooses not to deal with. A dinner party such as that would normally be one of those occasions."

Rory frowned in confusion. "He didn't show up on my account, if that's what you're thinking. He didn't know I'd been invited."

Janlan smiled gently at her. "But he knew it was your family that had extended the invitation."

"My grandmother wanted to reach out to you. She had no idea that Tristan and I were even working together."

"Yes, you young people are quite tight-lipped with the intimacies of your lives. I'm not here to pry; I trust that Tristan will eventually come to me with any details I should know about his life. My concern with him is that he might fail to recognize what's important to him until it's too late. I'm sure you've noticed that he possesses a stubborn streak."

Rory let out a noise of disgruntled amusement before she could stop herself. "You could say that."

"You care for him?" he inquired quietly.

She was struck by the way he asked. She found herself unable to break away from his appraising gaze. She barely nodded, finding words difficult.

"Good. I hate being wrong about these things," he said, in effort to lighten the mood.

"I'm sorry, it's just a little—complicated," she explained vaguely.

"I would imagine he excels at that. He's had a rough road to this point with interpersonal relationships."

"I was referring to our work situation," she amended.

"I see," he said and then let out a breath. "I'll leave it to the two of you to work out your own complications. I got the impression that you were aware of the way his career has veered in a tangential direction, and that possibly you believed he might want to take a second look at his original ambition."

She raised an eyebrow. "You got all that from me excusing myself over and over at dinner?"

He didn't miss a beat. "I pay attention. Especially when my grandson is concerned."

She nodded. "He's not interested in pursuing an official position. He's made that abundantly clear."

"Don't let him fool you. He's interested. He believes it unattainable. He's always had an issue with that particular combination of factors."

She took in his sentiments. It seemed an odd dichotomy for someone as self-assured as Tristan. "And you're telling me all of this why?"

"I think he's almost done hiding behind his job, which he's been using as a means of invisibility for years. I don't know if he's starting to want more for himself, or on your account, but you seem to have something to do with the changes I'm seeing in him, and I would hope that you'd keep that in mind as time goes on."

She sat up straighter. "Are you asking me not to hurt him or to help you convince him to run for office?"

He shook his head and raised his hands up with his palms facing the ceiling. "I have no interest in manipulating you or him. But I see that he listens to you. I only hope that your intentions with him are as good as your influence."

Her trepidation melted. "I don't plan on getting in the way of his career, whatever he chooses to pursue. I would never try and hold him back in any fashion."

Her phone buzzed again, and she did her best to ignore it. He smiled at her resolve. "I should let you get back to work. Thank you for meeting with me."

She nodded and stood to collect her bag. She paused at the side of the table. "May I ask you a question?"

He nodded solemnly as he met her eyes amiably. "I think that's reasonable."

She bit the skin under her lip as she formed her words precisely. "How long was he married?"

Janlan studied her as she waited for his answer. "Not a minute longer than he felt he had to be."

She was surprised by his answer, but she nodded in understanding. It was something Tristan would have to convey. There was more to that story, and if Janlan knew, and she assumed he did, it wasn't his place to get into the specifics. They said their goodbyes and she pulled her phone out to check her voicemail that had accrued during her time in the café, as she walked the short distance to the hotel.

XXXX

"Where the hell have you been?" Tristan asked under his breath as they followed at a pace behind Jack and the hotel concierge that was escorting them back to the ballroom that was being set up for the fundraiser in a couple of days' time. "I called you three times."

"I was at lunch. I'm allowed to eat," she said quickly under her breath, so that only he could hear. "I got your messages."

"Why didn't you take my calls?" he asked, not letting her off the hook that easily.

"I told you, I was eating, and about to see you here. What's the big deal?" she asked, not sure of the reason for the third degree. Something had aggravated him, and she hadn't anticipated the act of putting off his calls temporarily would have had that effect.

He shook his head tersely. "Nothing. It's just that we have a lot to deal with before the fundraiser, and I left messages about press op with Planned Parenthood, we still need to finalize his speech, and I have a multitude of other things to get in order. This weekend is huge. We have to be focused."

She slowed her pace and turned to face him. "I know. You don't have to worry about anything on my end. I'm ready."

He nodded but halted his strides. Jack and the concierge disappeared behind the double doors to the ballroom. "I was surprised you didn't take my calls. I thought maybe," he began as he watched her from his close proximity.

"I just had my phone on vibrate in my purse. It was busy in the restaurant. I wasn't avoiding your calls."

He watched her in earnest as she spoke the truth. She felt a pang of guilt at not disclosing her companion to him. It didn't seem right, not to let him in on the fact that his grandfather had invited her to join him. "I had a companion, at lunch," she began.

"Hey, guys," Jack appeared at the door. "Is there a problem?"

"We're coming," Tristan assured him before glancing back at Rory. "We'll discuss this later."

She nodded. "Yeah. Yes, of course," she said as she followed him into the ballroom to finalize yet more last minute details for the big event. The moment she walked in, she was blown away by the size of the room and the number of tables and chairs that were to be filled. She had seen the numbers on paper, but it was something else to see the empty room that would be full of supporters ready to contribute to the campaign.

"Where will my staff be?" Jack asked, from the long table at the front, where he'd be seated with other guest speakers and prominent officials that were on the guest list.

"Table three, over here," the woman that was there to answer and assist with any and all changes that needed to be made from the original plan.

Rory did a silent count. "Wait. Do we need that many chairs?"

Jack glanced her way. "Don't forget dates. You are bringing someone, aren't you?"

Rory stiffened and did her best not to glance Tristan's direction. "Should I?"

Jack laughed. "It's work, but it's also a chance to have some fun. Dates are encouraged. And if you happen to know anyone that wants to make a generous donation, all the better," he joked. "It'd be a shame to get all dressed up and waste it solely on work."

Rory blushed at the compliment. "Are you bringing someone?"

"He always brings his mother," Tristan spoke up, ribbing Jack a little.

"It's not wise for me to be seen with anyone unless I'm seriously involved, which at the moment, I'm not. I learned that long ago. I've got enough on my plate right now with the kid. And besides, my mother loves it. Am I to assume you will be coming alone, again?" he aimed at Tristan.

Tristan straightened his posture. "I'll be too busy working to entertain anyone properly."

Rory's resolve broke and she allowed herself a quick, furtive look at him. His face remained stoic, and she turned away. "What about Ross' seat?"

Tristan spoke up again, not hesitating in the slightest. "I'll take care of it."

"Things didn't go well?" she asked, looking from him to Jack.

Jack sighed heavily. "It's a shame. He did some good things in his career. You have to know when to get out of the game, though. All people remember is the last thing you do. Or the dumbest," he amended.

"Mr. Kent, we have the security team here to meet with you and your detail," the concierge broke into the conversation after getting a message in an ear bud.

"Great," he said as he nodded at her and then looked to Rory and Tristan. "This shouldn't take long. Work on filling that seat."

Tristan waved him off and turned to Rory. "So, are you going to bring your lunch companion to this thing?"

She spun to face him. "Excuse me?"

"I didn't mishear you earlier—you were just telling me you were having lunch with someone, right? Was it your mother?"

"No, as a matter of fact, it wasn't my mother. Do you not trust me to have lunch with anyone but you or my mother?" she asked, angered at the insinuation of his tone.

"I told you—trust is earned, not given until it's broken." He was clearly trying to keep his emotions at bay, but he wasn't shying away from personal matters, so she saw fit to continue in that vein.

"You are so messed up," she accused. "You don't trust me, but you don't mind sleeping with me? Besides, it's not like you were around to have lunch with anyway."

"I was working, which this morning you encouraged. What were you doing?" his asked, his eyes flashing in frustration.

"You know what? I was trying to be honest with you, because that's how adults act. But if you're going to patronize me, forget it. It's my business who I was with at lunch. It's too late for you to have an investigator follow me to find out on your own, so I guess you'll never know."

"You want to take it there?" he asked in a low voice.

She pointed a finger his direction. "You took it there."

He shook his head, battling his frustration. "Bring whomever you want to the fundraiser."

"I can't," she tossed back. "What's with you?"

He shook his head again, his demeanor calming by sheer force of will. "Nothing. I have a lot on my mind."

She wanted to yell at him to tell her what was on his mind. She wanted to tell him that she'd met with his grandfather. She wanted to slap him or kiss him or touch him in some way that conveyed the fact that his actions affected her more than she was supposed to allow at work. But they were at work, and whatever was behind his foul mood, he wasn't inclined to share with her—whether they were at work or in bed. It was the first time she realized that maybe he wasn't ready for this. It wasn't a realization she wished to have.

"Then maybe you should take some time and figure out what it is you want. If you have too much on your mind, take on less," she said at last, meeting his eyes hesitantly.

"Fine," he said tightly as his eyes lifted to focus on something behind her—Jack returning to the room, she guessed.

"Fine," she repeated, perhaps a bit petulantly. She knew her suggestion had come from a place of concern for him, but as she wasn't wild about the implication, she had just assumed he would have reassured her that she wasn't something he was willing to put aside. Perhaps she didn't know him as well as she thought.

"Everything set out here?" Jack asked, coming back to his top team members.

"I was thinking, for the empty place at the front table," Rory began.

"I said I'd take care of it," Tristan cut her off.

"That doesn't mean my idea wouldn't be better than yours," she responded scathingly.

"Actually, it does, since my taking care of it doesn't include my delegating the task to you," he explained in a heated fashion.

"Did something happen?" Jack asked, watching the two.

"No," they both responded with emphasis to the syllable.

"All right. Tristan, why don't you go line up a seat filler, and Rory, I'll head back to the office with you. There are some matters I'd like to go over with you."

Tristan turned and left without a word, and she couldn't help but stare after him briefly. She didn't quite realize how long she was staring at him until Jack's voice came from behind her. "He gets like this when the polls come out."

Rory turned her back on Tristan's retreating form as he exited the hall. "Did we lose points?"

Jack shook his head. "We're holding steady, knock on wood. But ours isn't the only race he watches."

She thought for a minute. "He's not involved in any other races, is he?"

Jack gave her a knowing look. "Politics is a lot like dating. Even if you're involved with one that suits you just fine, it doesn't mean you don't keep tabs on your ideal situation."

It didn't take her long to catch his meaning. "He's watching a district judge race?"

Jack considered this. "Well, most likely. But he's all worked up over the State's Attorney race. The incumbent is going to lose his seat to a guy that's more concerned with his own agenda than running a clean office or a clean race. It's a damn shame, but not much can be done about it, given the options presently."

"I guess at least you know you did things in a way you can be proud of, no matter the outcome," Rory said, trying not to focus solely on Tristan.

"Hey, we're going to win. Didn't Tristan give you the spiel about never envisioning defeat?"

"I believe he barked something like that at me on my first day," she managed, thinking it had been so much easier when his bad moods had only been an annoyance that came with the job.

Jack smiled. "After the election, you'll have to explain this whole love/hate thing you two have going."

His comment startled her. "We don't."

"So his continued presence on my staff is not the reason you're still taking my job offer under advisement?"

She squared her shoulders. "Actually, I've made up my mind. I'd be honored to be a part of your incumbency."

Jack smiled again, this time in relief. "You had me on the ropes. You do realize that I've been spoiled ever since you joined our team, don't you? Hell, even Tristan is better rested."

Her mind was filled with the sight of him asleep next to her in her bed just hours before. His smile had come so easily with her that morning. Could his bad mood really have stemmed from a race he wasn't involved in? She felt regret pang in her side at the conversation they'd just had so hastily. "It's a great opportunity for me. I'd be crazy to pass it up," she assured him as they left the venue.

XXXX

Luke opened the front door of his house in bare feet and an open flannel shirt over a grey t-shirt and jeans. "Rory. Hey, come in," he said, inviting her into her childhood home. She had a small bag over her shoulder and her laptop bag over the other shoulder.

"Hey, Luke. I don't mean to show up unannounced," she told him, her voice apologetic for interrupting any plans he might have had, despite his casual appearance.

"Don't be silly, you're always welcome here. I was just watching TV," he said, taking the remote and turning off a baseball game.

"Oh, you don't have to stop on my account," she assured him.

"It's more on your mother's account. She tends to start giving the players voices and drowning out the announcer. She should be home soon, so," he said as he stood in the living room.

Rory smiled. "Sounds about right."

He pointed to her bags. "Hey, you want me to drop your bags off in your old room?"

She waved off the offer. "Oh, no, I'll do it."

He tilted his head toward the kitchen. "You want something to eat?"

She smiled. "Do you mind?"

He shook his head. "I haven't eaten, and your mom will be starving. I'll just get started now."

"That would be amazing," she said, following him down the hall. She stepped into her old bedroom and flipped on the light as he started pulling pans out and placing them on the stove.

"Burgers okay?"

She put her bags on her bed and turned back to the kitchen. "Great. Does Mom make you serve your full menu at home?"

He smiled knowingly. "She prefers the fries at the diner, but yeah, pretty much."

"I hope you know she doesn't just love you for your ability to fulfill her food cravings," Rory told him sympathetically.

"I used to wonder," he mused as he turned from the food he'd started on the stove. "So, how's the campaign going?"

She sank into a kitchen chair. "It never stops. Who ever said the news stops for no man should have added the contingency that it was because they were busy covering politics."

Luke gave a deep-throated chuckle. "Sounds about right. Your mom has been lamenting your lack of free time to spend on the phone with her. She's been trying to call me as a replacement, which never works out for her. She'll be thrilled to see you."

She smiled. "Maybe I can get Jack to give you a key to the city for your service after he gets elected."

Luke's face screwed up in disgust. "A key to Hartford? He can keep that. Get him to run Taylor out of town, then we'll talk."

Rory laughed. "I'll see what I can do."

They shared a moment of easy silence before they heard the front door open and close. Luke wiped his hands on a towel and turned to watch Lorelai come into the kitchen.

"You're so good to me, cooking me dinner after I slave all day at work. It's like we're a fifties couple, except the whole role reversal and living in sin part. Maybe we should get married and you could wear pearls," she mused aloud before she caught sight of her daughter, who had moved to get a drink from the refrigerator.

Luke turned to Rory. "What do you think about the pearls?"

Rory shook her head. "I don't think they'd be so flattering with the flannel."

"What are you doing here?" Lorelai asked happily as she crossed the room to hug her daughter.

"I had a craving for burgers," she admitted, which was the partial truth.

"And maybe it's not so easy separating your day job and nighttime activities?" Lorelai asked knowingly.

Rory snuck a side glance at Luke. He finished plating the food and grabbed one for himself. "I can let you two talk. I'll just go finish the ball game."

Lorelai smiled as she handed Rory a plate. "Isn't he great? I have him almost fully trained."

"That must be nice," Rory muttered.

"Can't get Tristan to heel?" Lorelai asked sympathetically.

Rory sighed and stared at her burger. It looked as good as it smelled, but she was having trouble activating her appetite. "I get that he has issues. I mean, I understood that going in. At least, I thought I did. But even when he talks about his life, he doesn't seem to acknowledge that not only did it happen, but it also affected him."

Lorelai put her burger down. "Maybe he's not ready to deal with any of it. If his method of dealing was repressing it all and trying to forget about it, then it's bound to hit him again at some point."

Rory nodded. "I know. His grandfather came to see me today."

Lorelai's eyes widened. "Really?"

"He's sweet. He's worried about Tristan. He seemed to want to warn me to tread lightly with him, like he thinks Tristan's likely to be gun shy."

"From what you told me about your conversation with Emily about his past, it makes sense. I mean, has he dated much since the divorce?"

Rory shook her head. "It doesn't seem like it. But he's barely discussed his ex and what happened there. He's more than willing to keep throwing Logan in my face, though."

"Do you want to talk about what happened?" Lorelai asked, after a moment of silence.

Rory sighed. "I don't even know! I went to tell him that his grandfather had asked me to lunch, but we got interrupted, and he got all weird about me having lunch with someone, and then I didn't want to tell him and he seemed upset that I might bring someone to the fundraiser, even though I really only want to go with him. Before I knew what was happening, I told him he should take some time to himself."

"And then you came running home to Stars Hollow," Lorelai finished.

"Pretty much," Rory admitted, picking at the edge of her hamburger bun. "I also accepted that job, with Jack, for after the election."

"You've had a busy day."

"I figured I'd take my own advice and think. Someplace where no one will show up at my place at midnight and cloud my judgment. If he would even come looking for me tonight. Part of me didn't want to find out."

"Wow. Well, you're always welcome here. I miss you. And your room will never change. If you don't count the couple of boxes in the corner and the sewing machine on your desk," she said in full disclosure.

"Thanks. I think I'll go sort out my escort for the fundraiser."

Lorelai perked up. "You're going to call Tristan after all?"

Rory shook her head. "No. Dad."

Lorelai smiled with a mix of pride and sadness. "Christopher would be honored. And he looks great in a tux."

Rory stood. "I know. Plus Tristan can't fly into a passive-aggressive rage if I bring someone I share half my genetic code with."

Lorelai considered her statement. "I think it's more of a seventy-thirty deal. You're way more my kid than his. Does nurture have any sway over genetics, or just nature?"

Rory laughed. "I think either way it still goes in your favor. Night, Mom."

"Night kid."

XXXX

Rory held her coffee cup in one hand like a comfort item as she made her way through the front of the building. She nodded at a few people that smiled at her as she walked and took a deep breath before entering the back hall. She noted that her light was on and stepped warily into her own office. Tristan was sitting at her desk but stood when she appeared in view.

"What are you doing in my office?"

"Waiting for you. I need to speak with you in my office, now," he instructed, moving to walk past her. He brushed her shoulder with his, which caused her to take a step back.

"If this is about Jack's speech, I sent you the finalized draft. It's in your email."

"I've already read it," he said, turning to face her in close range. She noticed that his eyes gave away his exhaustion.

"Early morning?"

"I never went to sleep. My office, now," he repeated.

"Fine," she huffed. His insistence didn't signify a wiliness to bend, and it was just easier to get whatever gripe he had over with. Once she and her coffee were in the confines of his office, he slammed the door behind them.

She turned on her heel. "What the hell?"

He stepped close to her—too close for the office. "No one's going to come within five hundred feet of my door after I slam it. Everyone traipses in and out of your office, because you're nice. They're all afraid of me. It's like you're Snow White and I'm the Big Bad Wolf."

"I think you're mixing fairytale metaphors," she managed, resisting the urge to stabilize herself by grabbing his forearms. He was close enough for any number of intimate gestures.

"Where were you last night?" he asked, his eyes on her lips.

"Away."

"I noticed. I went to your place. I came back here, but you were nowhere to be found, all night."

"Why were you looking for me?" she asked, at once relieved that he had sought her out but not willing to kiss him as a show of that relief.

"Why do you think?" he asked, as he placed his hand on her shoulder.

"You could have just called me."

"Would you have answered?" he pressed.

She leaned her head against his hand. "Tristan. I thought you were going to think."

"I don't have to think about wanting you. I do that all goddamn day," he assured her as he turned his hand over to cup her cheek.

"We can't. Not here," she resisted weakly, for the only reason that she didn't want to be the one to cave. Her attention fell to his still-closed door.

"I told you, no one will come near until I open that door. Look at me."

She did as he asked. "You need to tell me things, if you want this to be more than sex."

He frowned. "You'd be okay with that?"

"You're doing it again! This isn't about my past sexual history. It's about you and the fact you aren't telling me things! Almost everything I know about your past has come from other people."

He tensed and pulled his hand away. "What's that supposed to mean? Who have you been talking to?"

She'd said too much. She crossed her arms protectively over her chest. "It doesn't matter. It matters that it isn't coming from you."

"It sure as hell does matter! I'm going to ask you one more time, who have you been talking to about me?"

She threw her hands in the air. "You hired a private investigator to root through my past!"

He visibly tensed. "For work."

She narrowed her eyes. "Jack told me himself that you'd settled the Logan matter, and yet you kept a guy on me to get those photos."

"I had just cause. Those text messages," he countered.

"Admit it—that's why you had me followed. You didn't want me with him, but not because of the campaign. What, were you jealous?"

"Jealous of what? You didn't belong to him anymore than you belonged to me at that point," he seethed.

"You read our words. How he wanted to touch me. What he wanted to do to me. What I asked him to do to me," she said, taking a step closer, admittedly being cruel to make a point.

He closed his eyes and held up a hand. "Stop it."

"Did it bother you or just turn you on?" she demanded.

He opened his eyes, a flash of blue warning her to back off. "I wanted to know where your loyalties lied, that's all. What's your excuse?"

She faltered. "I just wanted to know what I was getting into. After I found out you knew everything about me, I wanted," she paused, allowing him to jump back in.

"What do you want from me? Because if you want to know me, then you wait for me to tell you things or you ask me. I'm not ready to throw every single last sin and flaw at you and expect you'd be comfortable with them."

"What on earth could you have done that is so bad that it keeps you from telling me? Or from running in your own damn race?" she cried. "Or are you still in denial about wanting that, too?"

He stepped back. "Apparently you haven't been talking to the right people."

She straightened her suit jacket and walked past him to the door. "Apparently not," she said as she left the room and slammed it shut behind her. She needed distance from him, though she'd be around him all day. She'd take all the breathing room she could get, since being close wasn't doing them any favors.

Jack came out of his office at the commotion. "Hey. Everything okay?"

She nodded, willing the flush in her cheeks to fade. "Yes. I have your statement ready for the Planned Parenthood press op, if you have the time."

Jack's eyes cut to Tristan's door behind her. "Sure. Tristan's read it?"

"Yes. He has. If he has any issues, he didn't mention them."

"We can use my office," he offered, gesturing for her to come in.

"Great. Let's get to work," she said, slipping into her work and trying desperately to push Tristan from her thoughts. Every time she thought of him, her thoughts got muddled—messy. It had happened so fast.


	13. All Ready Home Where You Feel Love

Story Title: No Way Back

Chapter Title: All Ready Home Where You Feel Love

Description: Rory Gilmore gets tangled up in the other side of politics, but is she prepared to tangle with all it entails? Not if Tristan Dugrey has anything to say about it.

Rating: M

AN: This chapter is long. At long last, the big secret is revealed. And there's some naked time. I hope you are all happy readers. Title from The Head and the Heart's _Lost In My Mind._

Rory opened her apartment door and presented herself for show. "How do I look?"

Her father smiled. "Way too good to be my oldest daughter," he assured.

"You clean up nice, too. Mom always said you looked great in a tux," Rory praised him in return. "How's Gigi?"

"According to her, I'm like, totally ruining her life. But since she's a pre-teen, I take that as a compliment. She's spending a few weeks with her mom in Paris."

Rory laughed. "Just think, in a couple years she'll realize the benefits of meeting a Frenchman to retaliate at you," she teased.

Chris put a hand over his heart. "Stop it. You have no idea that agony that is having two beautiful daughters. At least you still want me to escort you somewhere. She makes me drop her off ten blocks from school."

Rory grabbed her clutch and keys. "Honestly I'll be happy if you stay right by my side all night."

Chris grinned and offered his arm. "It's nice to be needed once in a while."

She smiled at her father. "The only catch is that my boss expects you to make a huge donation."

"Hey, I expect to be properly courted. I don't open my checkbook until I find out if there's an open bar," he said sarcastically as they made their way down to his car.

XXXX

"Rory! Come over here!" Jack beckoned from a few hundred feet away, waving her in his direction.

Rory smiled at her dad and pulled him alongside her. It was a full house—everyone had gathered for drinks before the event truly got underway, and Chris put his arm around her waist to stay close to her as she navigated them through the space.

"Good evening," she greeted her boss.

"Rory Gilmore, this is Edward Booth. He's with Boyd's team. He's his esteemed communications director, and I've been meaning to get the two of you together," he spoke animatedly.

Rory extended her hand. "It's an honor."

"Likewise. We've been hearing about you, this journalist-turned-political dynamo that Jack discovered. We should meet and compare battle notes soon."

"I'd love that," she answered honestly before he moved on to the next person to chat with. Rory turned to Jack. "People are talking about me?"

Jack smiled. "I might have bragged about you to a few colleagues, but yes. Our campaign could have taken some big hits, not to mention the fact that it was well known that you came in halfway to take over when we desperately needed someone. You are our not-so-secret weapon."

"Okay, now I'm pretty sure you're just talking me up to make me look good to my dad, here," she said, gesturing to the man at her side.

"Now this is an honor," Jack said, extending his hand out to Christopher. "I've met your wife."

Chris frowned. "My wife?"

"Lorelai," Jack nodded.

Rory cringed, as always unsure as how to explain the situation politely. Her parents never made it particularly easy to define their relationship. "They aren't married. I mean, not anymore," she turned to her father. "Why does it sound more normal now that you're divorced?"

Chris smiled at his daughter. "You sound like your mom."

Jack registered the correction. "My mistake. It's still an honor to meet you. I'm sure I don't have to elaborate how special Rory is for your sake."

Chris smiled at his daughter. "No, I've been well aware of how amazing she is for quite some time now."

Rory blushed. "Keep talking about how wonderful I am if you must, but I'm going to find one of those handsome young men carrying trays of champagne."

"Your mother used to follow them around exclusively at parties," Chris mused.

Rory flashed him a knowing grin. "She still does," she assured him as she made her way from between her father and her boss, leaving them to shoot the breeze. No doubt Jack would have Chris at the ready to contribute in no time, given their amiable natures and Jack's passion for discussing his plans for office. She walked around groups of chatting party-goers, all dressed in mostly black or white formal attire, weaving her way through tables set to perfection, but she saw no waiters with full champagne glasses. She made her way eventually to the other side of the room, where the bar was open.

She was the third person in line, and she busied herself with straightening her newly purchased white dress, the likes of which she had to admit she'd been glad for the chance to need. It had been a long time since she'd had an excuse to get this dressed up. When the line cleared before her, she finally stepped up to the bar and considered the selection.

"Let me guess. Tequila shot?"

She stiffened but did not turn. She didn't want to show surprise. She just wanted to survive the night. She directed her comment to the bartender. "Champagne please. And scotch on the rocks for him."

"What about your date?" Tristan asked, leaning on the bar next to her as they awaited the arrival of their drinks. "Isn't he thirsty?"

"He's busy. Plus, he's driving."

"We have suitable measures in place to take care of anyone who over-imbibes. Alcohol encourages an open wallet. And from the looks of it, he's filthy rich. A little old for you," he judged.

She turned to examine his features as he stared at her father with distaste. "Men are so stupid."

His eyebrows rose in surprise as he turned his focus back on her. "Excuse me?"

"You think you're so smart, you figure it out," she said, reaching past him to grab her champagne. Her arm dragged across his chest in the process. "I have to get back to my escort."

She didn't turn to see if he was following her back through the crowd. She found her father ending a conversation with a man in a very dated tuxedo.

"Hey, where's mine?" he asked in a playfully hurt tone, pointing to the champagne.

She offered her glass. "You can have mine. I'm feeling jittery anyway."

"Surely our little political dynamo isn't nervous! This is going great, and it hasn't even gotten started. I just wrote a huge check."

She cringed. "I didn't invite you here so you would donate."

"Hey, I wanted to. Besides, it helps you, right? I'm all for that. And he's not what I expected a politician to be like."

"He's a good man. And so are you. Thanks again for coming on such short notice."

"I'm happy to be here. Now, let's have some fun, shall we?"

Her face went blank. "Oh no. We are not dancing."

He smiled. "We'll see about that. Jack said there would be dancing after all the boring stuff."

She shook her head amusedly. "The boring stuff is sort of what my job is all about. The speech writer would appreciate if her dad could stay awake during the actual speeches."

"And I'm very proud of you. It's not your words that make my eyelids heavy, but the tendency for the people who deliver the speeches to fall into a monotonic, droning cadence. Some of them would have great careers doing voice work for white noise machines."

Rory gave her father a discerning look. "I brought you because I thought you'd be more socially graceful than Mom."

Chris grinned evilly. "That was a rookie mistake."

"Clearly," she said as they found their seats.

"So, catch me up. New job, new town, new place. Quite the changes."

She nodded. "Yes, but I should be here at least four more years. I mean, assuming Jack wins."

Chris raised his eyebrows. "You're going to transition from his campaign to his office?"

Rory nodded. "I just accepted his offer. Which means my six month lease needs to get extended."

Chris took a drink of champagne. "Or you could look for something more permanent. I'd offer to let you move in with me, but living with your dad and your little sister would probably put a crimp in any social life you find time to have."

Rory lifted her eyes to find Tristan, a few tables over, talking with some people. He was still nursing his scotch, and his eyes flitted her direction. They stared at one another for a brief moment before breaking contact.

"Honey?"

She turned to her father. "Yeah?"

"You okay?"

"Yes. I've just got a lot on my mind. We did the press conference with Planned Parenthood yesterday, in response to Senator Ross' comments on their organization, and we're waiting to see what the extra attention to the situation and our coming out in defense of Planned Parenthood did to our polling numbers. And we had to cut him from the fundraiser, and I still don't know who is taking his place, or if that person is going to want to speak on Jack's behalf. I just like to be surer of where things stand."

"And that guy you keep looking at, can he tell you any of these things you want to know?" Chris asked, after watching her distraction being focused in the same direction time after time.

She smiled, knowing she'd been caught. "Actually, yes."

He nudged her. "So go talk to him. I'm fine here with my champagne, and I promise I know how to find the bar on my own. It's always been self-preservational instinct on my part. And I won't embarrass you past showing off your second-grade picture in my wallet to your multitude of admirers here."

She rolled her eyes. "I think parents these days just use their cell phones."

He pulled his phone out of his pocket. "Should I load up now? You are all shined and polished. Smile for me," he coaxed and then frowned at his phone. "Wait. I can never remember how to get the camera going. Is it this?"

"You're hopeless."

He smiled sheepishly. "Gigi usually does it for me."

Rory laughed. "Again, hopeless."

"Seriously. You can leave me alone for a few minutes to discuss work. I'll be fine."

She snuck another glance Tristan's direction. "That's okay."

"You sure? Because it's pretty obvious that you want to go over there. I'm still unclear on exactly why, but that's not really my business."

She bit her lip. "I'm not entirely sure why I want to go over either."

"Then go and find out," he encouraged.

She took a deep breath for courage and stood up. "Any champagne left?"

He shook his head. "Sorry. But I promise if he's not smart enough to get a lady as lovely as you a drink, then I'll kick his ass and get a drink for you when I'm done."

"Look at you, all ready to spring into action," she said, impressed.

"Being in a tux makes me feel like James Bond," he informed her in a secretive fashion.

"Okay, James. Here I go."

She didn't walk directly to Tristan. Instead, she walked into his view and waited until she was sure he had taken notice of her. She then began strolling through the crowd slowly, nodding and smiling to people she recognized, but not stopping to get waylaid in any conversation. By the time she reached the bar again, he was at her side.

She lifted her eyes to him. "Need a refill?"

He nodded to the bartender. "What about you?"

"I gave my drink away."

He ordered her a martini and leaned toward her. "I hear your father made quite a donation."

"He tends to overcompensate when I'm concerned," she shrugged one shoulder.

"There are worse qualities for parents to have," he said simply.

"I know," she said, turning to him. "Did you get someone to fill the empty seat?"

He nodded. "My grandfather."

She felt as though all the blood drained from her face. "Good choice."

"Why didn't you tell me you'd had lunch with him?" he asked evenly.

Her eyes cut into him. "You didn't give me the chance."

He nodded, accepting the blame. "Sorry. It was a knee-jerk reaction."

"The jerk part sounds right," she said, not done feeling the hurt and confusion of the last couple of days.

He handed her the martini. "That's quite a dress," he said, steering her easily by the elbow away from the bar. "Shame to waste it on work. Or your dad."

"It seemed important to look good, for the campaign. I didn't have the occasion to dress up for someone," she said meaningfully. She took a sip of her drink.

"You know, Jack wants us to enjoy this evening," he said, his eyes appreciating the cut of her dress.

"Then we should probably stop fighting," she said, taking a step away from him. He regained the distance, instantly taking the same step in her direction.

"I don't want to fight with you."

She swallowed, though there was no drink in her mouth. "I don't want to fight with you, either. But you don't always give me much of a choice."

His expression gave her the impression that he was going to get closer to her, which would make it nearly impossible to keep the line between personal desire and professional decorum intact. "If it's any consolation, you're very sexy when you're angry."

Her eyes flashed at the desire of his tone. "I'm not angry now."

He nodded in relief. "You're still sexy. You'll save me a dance, later?"

She breathed in and nodded. "We should get to the table. Things will get started soon."

"I'm right behind you," he assured her, and as she turned she felt his hand strong against the small of her back. Her dress was cut low in the back, and the fabric stopped only a few inches from where his hand pressed into the dress. When they danced, his hand would be against her bare back. Her night had seemed long before, when they weren't on good speaking terms, but as they found themselves on the precipice of making up, she feared the night seemed even longer. Wanting to touch him was one thing, but having him hold her and not be able to reciprocate would be torture.

"So, did you get your information?" Chris asked as she slid into her seat, across the round from Tristan.

"Yes," she said succinctly as she smiled tightly at her dad before trying to focus on the stage, just past Tristan's form.

"And everything's okay?"

She nodded. "I think so. Sometimes it's too early to tell."

Chris frowned quizzically at his daughter just as the current governor, who was not seeking reelection in the upcoming race and had graciously thrown his support behind Jack Kent, stepped up to give the opening speech. Everyone had settled down at their assigned tables, and Rory knew that she had a reprieve during the speeches. After that, dinner would be served, bringing small talk at the table, and then there would be music and dancing. She wondered just how long she'd have to stay after that point—and exactly whom she'd be leaving with. Her good sense and better judgment was only going to take her so far in the face of a repentant Tristan and the way he was looking at her across the table while she pretended to be listening to the speakers.

XXXX

"I am so proud of you," Rory said into her father's ear.

"For using the correct fork? That information was beat into me when I was four," he mused.

"No," she laughed softly. "You kept your eyes open. You even clapped at appropriate times."

"It wasn't as boring as I expected. He's a very charismatic speaker. And it's kind of cool, that not only will I have met our next governor, but that my daughter will be working for him," he beamed.

Tristan looked up from his mostly empty plate. "You accepted Jack's offer?"

Rory met his eyes, startled. "Yes. I've decided to stay in Hartford after the race."

"Did I let the cat out of the bag?" Chris asked Rory, quieter than he'd uttered his last comment.

"No, I mean, Jack's team isn't a secret. It'll be public knowledge soon, it's just this week has been crazy and there hasn't been much time for exchanging information that wasn't vital to the things going on in the moment or for the fundraiser," she explained to her father, but mostly for Tristan's benefit.

"Well, I think it's great. Are you sure you don't want to dance? People are starting to wander onto the dance floor," Chris said with a hopeful air.

"I am not on par with you and Mom, you know I'm not a very good dancer. Remember those lessons at Miss Patty's?" she reminded him.

"You were sixteen. And no offense, but I'm a much better lead than that Dean kid was."

Tristan smirked. "You should dance with your dad. You're not as bad as you think you are."

"See, you're not bad. And you owe me for the mental scars I've received from being in ass-pinching distance of Ms. Patty over the years."

Rory gave Tristan a wistful glance and nodded at her dad. "Fine. You did put on a tux for me. I'm afraid no one can help you with the lasting effects of Patty's libido."

"You're worth the damage."

Rory allowed her father to take her hand and lead her out past the tables to where people were starting to dance. He held her a much more formal manner than Tristan had when they danced after the debate.

"So, how long until we get cut in on?" he asked with a serious face.

She frowned. "You should be more concerned with how long your feet can stand being stepped on."

"You're doing fine, just try not to think about what you're doing. Did you two have a fight or something?"

Her eyes widened in alarm. "What?"

He cocked his head. "Come on. I may be your dad, but I'm not blind. You've been exchanging some pretty heavy looks of longing all night. I thought he was going to lose it when I said something about you taking the job with Kent."

She shook her head. "No, he just didn't know."

"Because you hadn't told him?"

She nodded. "He and I haven't had a chance to talk lately."

He clicked his tongue. "Looks like you're about to get a chance."

"What?" she asked, turning to see Tristan coming up behind her.

"Should I be nice or go the overprotective dad route?" he asked in her ear.

She smiled. "I've been mean enough. You can be nice."

"He's worthy?" he made sure just before Tristan stopped near them.

"He just might be," she managed as Tristan held out his hand.

"May I?" Tristan inquired the pair as they stopped moving and turned to face him.

"Actually, we were about to go. I have an early meeting. Unless you can find another way home?" Chris asked his daughter. "I hate for you to miss any of your big night."

Rory's eyes widened at his sly move. "I think I can manage. Lots of cabs in this area and all."

"I'll make sure she gets home safely," Tristan spoke over her to her father.

Chris smiled. "Then I won't feel guilty for ducking out," he said, before kissing Rory's cheek. "You look beautiful, and I'm very proud of you. Oh, and you should mention to your mother that I stayed awake. She won't believe it."

Rory nodded. "She loves tales of implausibility," she said as she waved at her father. She turned to Tristan, who held his arms at the ready for a dance.

"You can't deny me now. Not only do I know you can dance, but you know I won't let you fall down and your father seemed all too happy to hand you over to my custody."

"My father never had very much say in who took care of me," Rory said, raising one eyebrow his direction.

"I say again—there are worse problems to have."

She slipped one hand up on his shoulder and placed her other hand in his. "You can be this close to me and pretend that we're just colleagues sharing a celebratory dance?"

He pulled her in tighter against his torso as they swayed around in a timely fashion under his lead. "I've done it before. Lots of things in life aren't what they seem to be."

"I didn't go looking for things in your past to use against you in some way," she said.

"But what if you found something that gave you a reason to put an end to things between us? Wouldn't that be easier?" he nudged.

His words lodged her chest. "I never thought about that. I just wanted to know," she hesitated.

"Know what?" he coaxed.

Her eyes met his. "You. I just wanted to understand why you couldn't seem to stand to be near me."

He smiled. "You're such a smart woman. I didn't think you'd need to work so hard just to piece that together."

"You're sort of a complicated man. I'm not sure you know that about yourself."

"The way I feel about you has never been a secret. It has nothing to do with any other part of my life. You're trying to make all these parts of me connect and mean something in relation to each other, but really, there are three very separate components to my life. There's my work. There's my family, and then there's you."

She tightened her grip on him. "The only problem with that is they've already started to overlap. Is that what you meant by things getting messy?"

"I thought we'd have more time before that became the case," he said as his hand slid up from her waist to her uncovered back. "I love this dress."

"We should go. We can't do this here," she managed as her eyes closed. They were barely moving at all due to how close they were pressed together. In attempting to keep her physical reactions to him in check, she was squeezing his hand so hard her knuckles had turned white.

He slipped his keys out of his pocket and into her hand. "Meet me at my car. I'll say goodbyes and be there in a second."

She pulled just far enough away to look him in the eyes and nodded. She stopped by the bathroom on the way out of the hotel to check her appearance in the mirror. Her heart was racing from being so close to him after not being near him for a few days. The added restriction of not being able to touch him in the way she wanted to hadn't helped either. She stepped back into the lobby and saw him emerge from the hall. He noticed her and walked determinedly over to her.

"Change your mind?"

She shook her head. "No, just making sure everything was still in place."

He put a hand to her cheek and ran it up over her neck and into her hair. "It won't be for long."

She grabbed his hand and pulled him along toward her as she took a couple of steps backward to the door, so he could see the smile on her face. "Let's hurry."

XXXX

She hadn't paid much attention to where he was steering the car. Any place they could be alone would suffice for her at that point. His hand stayed in hers while he drove and she stayed quiet as she figured that they'd done enough talking for the time being. The moment he pulled his car into a driveway, she took notice of the large, unfamiliar house and stared up at it as she opened her door and stepped out onto the pavement.

"Where are we?"

He had already come around the front of his car to join her. He pulled her roughly against him and kissed her. It had been too long since she'd felt his lips against hers and she responded hungrily. He lifted her up off the ground as they stood in front of the private residence, bordering on lewd behavior. Once her feet were connected with the pavement, she put a hand to his chest. "Should we be here?"

"I have every right. It's my house," he said as he gave her hand a playful yank and directed her through the front door.

She searched her new surroundings with a skeptical eye. "This is your house?"

"Mmmhmm," he said, leaning back down to kiss her once they were inside. "This is it," he said before backing her up against the wainscoted wall in the foyer. She leaned her head against the hard surface and he kissed her neck.

"Why did you bring me here?"

"It was closer to the hotel than our apartments," he informed her between kisses. One hand went down to the hem of her dress, and he slid the fabric up over her thigh. His hand continued up underneath and he gave a groan of contentment. "Lose your underwear again?" he breathed the words into her ear.

She parted one leg out further to give him more room to explore. "I was trying to avoid panty lines."

"We wouldn't have made it out of the goddamn hotel if I would have known that earlier," he said before kissing her again. Her hands moved to his face and held him as their mouths opened to deepen the kiss.

"Where's the bedroom?" she managed as his hand continued it's path up underneath her dress.

"Who the hell needs a bedroom?" he asked as he nipped at her ear, making her glad of the wall for support.

Not needing more of an invitation, she skimmed her hands down his chest pausing to open buttons on his shirt, until at last she found the fastening of his pants. With his assistance, they were at his feet in the blink of an eye. He leaned his forehead against hers, his eyes dark with lust and wholly intent on her. "Hang on to me."

She gave a brief nod and put her arms around his shoulders. He easily gathered her dress up at her waist and used both hands to lift her hips. He lowered her body down on to his and she felt tears well up as the sensation overwhelmed her momentarily. It was what she'd been missing, the feel of him inside of her while still supporting her. The moment he began to move, she curled her body around him, hoping that no matter how much the parts of their lives intermixed they'd remember it was worth the mess.

XXXX

There was a bedroom, which she hadn't doubted, and a perfectly fine bed within it. She was laying in it a few hours after first entering the house, with a sheet pulled diagonally over her torso as she stared up at the ceiling. He was lying on his side, stroking her arm as he watched her. "How'd you like the tour?"

She turned her head to lean her cheek on his bicep. "Is that the official tour all the guests get the first time they see your house?"

He laughed and kissed her. "No, but you have to admit, you had a good time in every room."

She blushed. "I had more than one good time in some of them."

He brushed her cheek with this thumb. "I missed you."

"Yeah. Me too," she said, reaching up to run her hand over his chest. "So things are messy now."

He nodded. "So it would seem."

"Your grandfather told you we talked?"

He nodded and brought her hand up to his lips. "When I went to ask him to help me out with the fundraiser. He likes you. But he tends to like anyone that calls me out. It helps that you're pretty and sincere."

She smiled. "He cares very much for you."

"And I him. But he thinks I can just go back to living my life like it was before, and I have no interest in that."

She trailed a finger down his face, pulling down on his bottom lip. "I think he just doesn't want you selling yourself short."

"Rory," he said, taking her finger down in his hand again. "Even if I did run, despite everything in my past, it would take a toll on things. Not just for me, but everyone in my life."

"You're going to have to come up with a better excuse than me not to run."

He worried his bottom lip between his teeth. "I've been with someone who was with me solely based on their expectations of what my eventual position in life would gain them."

"Don't misunderstand my support—I don't want you to run for me. I know it will be a nightmare. But I also know you won't be happy until you get what you want."

"You should at least have all the facts before you get all selfless and push me to do this."

She nodded and gave him a serious face. "You're right. Consider me a captive audience."

He sighed. "It's not a story that ends well," he warned her.

"You've made that abundantly clear," she assured him. "I assure you that nothing you say will make me think any less of you. We all make mistakes. Consider this a glass house and me fresh out of rocks."

He closed his eyes and for a moment she wasn't sure if he was going to say anything. When he opened his eyes, she saw the stirrings of pain in them. "When I started law school, I knew two things. I knew I wanted to follow the path that my family had set for me; which was law school, some time at a firm working my way up, then running for office so I could be a judge for the rest of my career. I also knew that it was my last chance to enjoy the whole college experience, before work took over my life. I knew how hard I was going to have to work, but the more I got into studying the law, the more I enjoyed it and found I was pushing myself and ignoring everything else."

"It's easy to get consumed by your studies," she nodded, knowing the feeling all too well.

"Yeah, well, I told you there was a group of us that studied together, and this one girl, Heather, was always giving me a hard time. She told me I needed to get laid, like it was some kind of novelty for me. She didn't know much about me, none of them did, but I think she took the whole military school thing to mean I hadn't been around girls," he smirked.

"So you had her good and fleeced," Rory muttered with a smile of her own.

"She was at best a concerned acquaintance, though I got the feeling she was attracted to me. Anyhow, she kept talking up her friend, Ashley, and she invited her out with us a few times. To get her off my back, I took Ashley out a few times, but I never really planned on it leading anywhere. She was smart and pretty, but she wasn't who I imagined spending my life with."

Rory smiled wanly. "Do guys picture that kind of stuff?"

He considered her. "Some do."

She nodded, feeling the weight of a whole other conversation looming. "What happened then?"

He hesitated. "Halfway through my last year, she and I barely saw one another. I was always busy, and I was very clear about the fact that passing the bar was my top priority. She never put any pressure on me to be with her, and I assumed things were winding down—she'd move on, find someone else, whatever. But she was always around, and one night after finals were over, I needed to blow off some steam. I could see the end of school and chances to cut loose, and I just wanted to have some fun. So, a group of us went down to New York for a weekend and just got trashed. We stayed at a hotel, we drank, we partied—just for a break from it all. After that we all split for the winter break. When I got back to school, Ash showed up."

His voice changed on the last sentence. "She was a mess. She was normally very together and upbeat, but she'd been crying and she looked like she hadn't slept in a couple of days. I got her calmed down and she told me she was pregnant," he said with a level of distaste she'd never heard him use. "She said she didn't know what she was going to do, that it wasn't in her plans, and she knew it wasn't in my plans. She kept saying she didn't want to disrupt my life," he shook his head bitterly.

"But she did?" Rory supplied.

He nodded. "And I fell for it. You have to understand, I was really drunk that last night we'd been together—I was always careful, but I couldn't remember much about what we did in New York. Things had started to get weird at home; my dad was never much of a prize, but he had been on rampage over the holidays. I spent most of my time off at my grandfather's, trying to figure out why I was working so damn hard to end up like my old man. My mind was sort of a mess."

"You didn't know what he was up to then?" she asked gently.

He shook his head. "It'd been going on for years, but I didn't know exactly what he was up to until I started working at his old firm. I'm sure he regrets underestimating how smart I was once I started working there."

Rory nodded sympathetically. "So you got married because she told you she was pregnant?"

"I honestly didn't know what to do. I asked my grandfather for advice, and my grandmother got wind of it; she didn't give me much choice after that. I was supplied with a ring and told the consequences of not taking care of the situation in a way that honored the family," he said in a scathing tone. "Like I was the one that was disgracing the family name."

Rory blinked. "Wow."

"Yep."

"I still don't understand exactly why any of this would work against your campaign bid. I mean, no one thinks you had anything to do with what your dad was up to and lots of people have failed marriages."

He sighed. "I'm getting to that. So, we got married pretty much immediately. My grandmother took care of wedding preparations while I finished school and took the bar, Ashley moved in here and started attending society functions with my family, and all of a sudden college was over and nothing looked like I thought it would. I came home one night not long after the wedding and Ashley was in bed, crying. She told me she lost the baby. And I tried to be upset, I tried to comfort her, but all I could do was sit there and put an arm around her and think of how relieved I was. I started thinking I was this awful son-of-a-bitch because my wife lost our baby and I was glad I was somehow off the hook."

"It wasn't what you wanted," she put her hand on his arm and squeezed gently.

"It didn't matter at that point. It was my life, and it was fucking awful. I started working longer hours, and she went to more and more parties without me. I didn't care that we were growing apart. I never felt like we were all that close anyhow; we were just these two people that were joined by some sick twist of fate."

"So you got divorced then?" she asked.

He shook his head. "That would have been the smart move, but no. I got distracted at work, noticing that a lot of good lawyers were making plea deals that didn't make sense. I did a little digging and found out they were all on my dad's roster. He came by, under the guise of seeing how I was doing, and took a meeting with a couple of the lawyers doing the pleas, which I managed to listen in on. They wanted to ebb off the deals, but he was insistent. He's not nice when he's desperate. He threatened them and reminded them of their deal. I didn't go to my grandfather again, afraid my grandmother would get wind of it and convince me to ignore what I'd heard. I went to the State's Attorney's office and had a conversation with Boyd."

Her mouth dropped open. "You not only testified against him, but you tipped off the investigation?"

He nodded firmly. "I'll never be sorry I did that. It was the right thing to do."

"Still. It's your dad. You must have some conflicting feelings about it."

"If he'd ever shown concern for our family, maybe I would have. But you're right, all these things were happening and all I felt was cold. I started to wonder if I was this heartless jackass, on track to become just like him, and I couldn't stomach that thought. I had hired my own investigator, to get proof to back up my concerns when I presented it to Boyd, and that's when they brought me evidence that not everything with Ashley had happened as she'd said. We had no medical bills. She had insisted on running the household since I was busy working and setting up my career. I never saw bills. Apparently I didn't see anything. If she'd been pregnant, there should have been doctor visits, and there sure as hell should have been some sort of treatment when she lost the baby. But there was nothing."

Rory watched him tell of his past, and though she'd heard most of the details from her grandmother, there was an edge to his voice that hit her hard. "She lied?"

He nodded. "About all of it. Everything she'd ever said—our whole marriage had been a lie. And she'd made it feel like it was my doing. It was a very bad time for me, with my dad and Ashley and finding out what kind of people they were," he explained slowly.

She squeezed his hand. "You can tell me."

"I had a friend at work draw up annulment papers," he began again. "I had a feeling that since she'd orchestrated this whole marriage, she wouldn't be warm to the idea of walking away as though it had never happened. That was the only option that was acceptable to me at that point. My dad had drained my trust fund, or so I'd been led to believe, and any money she would have gotten in a settlement would have been mine and not family money, and I didn't want her to profit from what she'd put me through."

"That sounds reasonable," Rory said, now having heard the extent of her knowledge of his past, with the added revelations that he'd sought an annulment, not a divorce, and she was unsure as to what happened to his trust fund.

"This is the bad part," he said in all seriousness. "I want you to know, what I did, I did out of revenge. I'm not proud of what I did next, and I was in a very bad place when I did it."

She swallowed and steeled herself. "Okay."

"Okay. I had the annulment papers, and I waited until she went to yet another party. I invited Heather down from Boston, because I'd figured she was the one to get me into all of this, so I was going to use her to get me out of it. I told her that things were over with me and Ash and we came up here and I got her to drink with me for consolation, and when Ashley got home that night, I'd timed things well enough that she found us in bed together."

Rory's eyes widened and her breath caught at the visual. "Oh."

"I did it mindfully. I needed her to see just how serious I was about ending things, how serious I was about moving on like she'd never existed. When she started screaming at me, I got up out of bed as calmly as I could and handed her the papers and told her to sign and get out."

"And she did? Just like that?"

He licked the corner of his mouth. "I made it clear to her that I knew everything she'd done, all the lies she told. That if she pursued a divorce in order to get what she mistakenly thought she was entitled to, I would bury her in legal fees before leaving her with nothing. I assured her that it was her easiest means of escape. I got a job offer from Boyd a couple of weeks later, and I threw myself into work as his ASA. I filled out paperwork before the deadline to join the race for the State's Attorney office when it came up, but I never filed it. Boyd asked me to run his campaign for the House race. I figured it was for the best—I have two witnesses to the fact that I cheated on my wife and threatened her, even with a nasty legal battle. I can't really blame Heather for not being too happy with me for the way I used her, even though she had to have known what Ashley was really after even back then. I doubt they're still friends, but I'm pretty sure they'd both be more than willing to speak out on the issue if someone came knocking, all the while leaving my motivation out of it."

Rory took a deep breath. "I'm not sure what to say."

"I would imagine you're thinking I'm not the man you thought I was," he offered honestly.

She shook her head and touched his cheek. "No. Tristan, no one should have to have dealt with everything you did, especially all at once."

"It doesn't make the way I went about it right," he said, still clearly troubled.

"No. But it doesn't define you."

"But it does. All that I went through, it changed me in a lot of ways."

She couldn't argue with that. She looked around the room. "Why did you keep the house?"

"At first, I just had the locks changed and moved out. I was busy at work and I didn't want to deal with any of the aftermath of the fact that I was suddenly no longer married, and that my whole family life had shattered completely. When I testified and Ashley had left, my grandmother informed me she was putting me out of her will. The house sat here, ignored, for a while, until she died. I came here after I found out and had the place cleaned up, thinking maybe I'd finally sell and get everything behind me. Just before her will was read, Grandpa told me that when he found out Dad had been borrowing from my trust fund while I was in military school, he emptied the fund so Dad wouldn't have access to it again and invested the money in my grandmother's name. When she got ill, he amended her will to leave that investment to me, as he believed it should be."

"Hence the five million dollars."

"Free and clear of my father or my ex."

"I still don't think you should let them take away your future."

"Has anyone ever cheated on you?" he asked thoughtfully.

"Not technically. At least, if you ask him. It's not the best feeling, but it's not an unforgivable sin in and of itself. Plenty of politicians have overcome worse."

"I overcame what led up to it. I'm not eager to relive it."

"Your grandfather seems to think you're ready to move on."

"In some ways I am," he said, sliding his hand down over her hip. "What you said about the parts of my life starting to bleed into one another, you were right. I didn't want to have to tell you what had happened with Ashley, and I'm doing my best to focus on the job in front of me, but with you around, I can't help but think about my future. Now that you've agreed to stay with Jack, it looks like we'll both be around here for a couple more years."

"And after that?"

He smiled. "You better be ready to move to Washington, Miss Gilmore," he mused and kissed her.

"You should keep the house," she said. "It maintains your residency, even if you don't live in it," she urged.

"Rory," he groaned. "Forgetting everything else, if I did run, I'd have to leave Jack's team. That would put me here and you in D.C."

"If I stayed with Jack," she corrected.

He frowned. "You love working on his team. You said it was a great opportunity for you."

"And you said I would have my pick of any campaign. If you ran, I'd pick yours."

"I'm not heading for the same track as Jack. I couldn't offer you the same longevity that he can."

She hesitated. "What about outside of work?"

His expression softened. "Part of the reason I brought you here was because I don't have any good memories in this place. Now I don't have to walk into a room and only have a fight or cruel words or any other unhappy memory lying in wait for me. It's my house and I want to fill it with better memories."

She smiled. "And I just thought you were too turned on to wait."

He smiled in kind. "Well, there was that too."

She got lost in thought for a moment. "Are we going to have to tell Jack?"

He shrugged. "As long as we're doing our jobs, I don't see a problem. He'd probably appreciate it if you stop trying to get me to quit, though," he said as he leaned in to kiss her.

"Promise me you'll consider the possibility. If you decide after giving it real thought that you want to stay with Jack, then I won't bother you about running again. It's your career. I won't get in the way of that, no matter what."

"Rory, if you hadn't noticed," he said as he rolled his body back over hers, "I like you in my way."

She pressed a finger over his lips. "Promise me."

He nipped at her finger. "If it'll make you happy."

She stared up at him in earnest. "You deserve to be happy. That's all I want you to realize."

He kissed her again, ending the conversation effectively, and set about giving them yet another happy memory in the house that he'd never considered his home.


	14. No Way Back From Here

Story Title: No Way Back

Chapter Title: No Way Back From Here

Description: Rory Gilmore gets tangled up in the other side of politics, but is she prepared to tangle with all it entails? Not if Tristan Dugrey has anything to say about it.

Rating: M

AN: Title track chapter. I always enjoy those. Thanks for the reviews, as always, I enjoy seeing your reactions, but particularly to Tristan's revelations.

"Wow."

Rory nodded. "I know."

"Yeah, but I mean, wow," Lorelai impressed the sentiment again by adding another syllable to the word.

Rory took a sip of her coffee. "It was a lot of information to get at once. I'm glad I had already been prepared for some of it."

Lorelai frowned in annoyance. "When I talked to your dad, all he kept blathering on about was the fact that you said that his tux made him look like James Bond."

Rory's jaw opened defiantly. "I so did not say that. That's completely out of context."

"Yeah, well, I don't take much stock in the word of the guy who can't even operate his stupid camera phone to take a picture of you all dressed up in your fancy dress that I didn't get to make or help pick out," Lorelai said, showing her dismay.

Rory held up her palms. "Can we focus?"

Lorelai sighed. "Right, the boyfriend with five million dollars, a stunning McMansion at the ready for you to make new memories in, and a past that haunts him."

Rory bit her lip for a second. "I'm not sure I'd say he's my boyfriend."

Lorelai cocked her head to the side. "Really? Him telling you every last detail of his painful past, not to mention the fact that you christened practically every single room in his house, that doesn't earn him the boyfriend title?"

"Every now and then I wish there was a filter between us and the things we feel comfortable telling each other."

Lorelai smiled. "Yeah, I opted not to install that when you were born."

Rory took another drink of her coffee and folded her legs underneath her on the couch. "When you were younger, did you have a plan for your life?"

Lorelai seemed surprised. "Uh, you mean other than making sure we had basic needs covered on a daily basis?"

Rory nodded. "I meant more like when you looked ahead, knowing that the circumstances you found yourself in would improve and that you were working toward something better; did you always know what path you wanted?"

Lorelai sighed. "Sort of. I knew I wanted to do things my way, but that's always been the way I've approached life. Once I was free to live the way I wanted to, I knew that as long as I worked hard and could provide for us, the rest would come."

Rory cocked her head. "I can't remember you ever wanting anything but owning your own inn."

Lorelai laughed. "That wasn't something that I'd always known I wanted; it came about during a hen session with Sookie. We'd started hanging out when she started in the kitchen at the Independence as sous chef. She worked for the meanest old man—his food was great but he ran that kitchen with a white glove and a loud bark, everyone was terrified of him, even Mia I think. I was the head of housekeeping, and I had all these ideas of making things run smoother, but the stupid night manager thought I was vying for her job, so she kept shutting me down. So one night Sookie and I went out drinking on our night off and we came up with the great plot to take over the Independence Inn, or to open our own place as an acceptable secondary plan B."

Rory smiled. "You've never told me that."

"Well, you were seven at the time, and I didn't tell you a lot of 'Mommy's been drinking' stories," she admitted.

"But it wasn't just some drunken notion. You guys talked about it for years and saved your money and look at you now."

Lorelai reached out and touched her daughter's shoulder. "What's all this future talk? You accepted the job with Jack, so that means you want to do the whole political game and get your own desk in the West Wing, right?"

Rory shrugged noncommittally. "I guess. I mean, that seems to be where this path leads."

"Please don't quote Robert Frost," Lorelai begged. "But does your plan B involve Tristan?"

Rory looked down. "I don't know. Maybe. They both might," she admitted.

"Do you really think he wants to run?" Lorelai asked gently.

"I don't know. We haven't discussed it again. I'm trying to let him think about it."

"I will never understand how you are able to just stay out of things because it's what you should do," Lorelai shook her head. "But since it's just you and me, tell the truth. Do you want him to run?"

"Honestly? No. I like working with him. I like being a part of Jack's team. He's going to win this, and he's going to keep moving up the ranks. The work is fulfilling, and I know Tristan feels that way in some part. But then I think there will always be a part of him that wonders if it could have been him."

"Try not to be too selfless here," Lorelai grabbed her hand. "Support him running if that's what he decides, but you don't have to leave Jack's campaign if Tristan does."

Rory nodded, but a frown creased her forehead. "No, I know. Honestly, I'm not sure Tristan would want me on his team."

Lorelai sat up. "Why not? He keeps saying how great you are," she said, sounding offended.

Rory met her eyes. "Yes, but he thinks the best place for my career is staying with Jack."

"Oh. Oh, so now you're both selfless. What a pair you make. 'I love you more,' 'No, no, really, I love you more,'" she mimicked in a high-pitched, sugary voice. "Yech."

"Okay, I might be his girlfriend, but we definitely do not sound like that," she defended.

"No one's dropped the L-word?" Lorelai mused knowingly.

"Lesbian?" Rory supplied to toss off the gravity.

"Haha. Oh, though you know who is a lesbian now?"

Rory thought for a minute. "I don't think it's the kind of thing that you suddenly become."

Lorelai's face told a different story. "Andrew's girlfriend. Well, ex-girlfriend. She has her own girlfriend now."

"What? When did that happen?" Rory asked in disbelief.

"Founder's Day. She tried to blame the first instance on too much punch, but Patty spied them a week later at Weston's in the back corner feeding each other pie, and the moment Andrew heard, which was of course after the rest of the town heard, he confronted her and she admitted that she was leaving him for the other woman. They had their big blow up in the frozen food aisle at Doose's."

"That's the most exciting thing that's happened at a town function since Kirk tried to get Taylor to seduce him."

"That poor flat-chested man. He should have at least stuffed," Lorelai giggled in remembrance. "So, what does it look like when you picture your future? Are you seeing the nation's capital or your boyfriend's house?"

Rory grimaced. "I think my crystal ball is in need of a cleaning. I can't see anything. I just keep thinking that I gave up a relationship before for my career once, and I've since learned that careers can change and evolve."

Lorelai grinned sadly. "So can relationships."

"Yeah I guess," she said as she checked her watch. "Thanks for the talk. And the coffee. I should really be getting back."

"You can stay. It's just me tonight. Luke's sleeping in his office, for some big shipment that is coming at an hour that is best not mentioned," she said jovially.

"I can't," Rory cringed.

"Ah, plans with the boyfriend," Lorelai realized.

"It made sense to see him, since we're both going down to D.C. in the morning."

"Isn't it early to scope out apartments?" Lorelai teased.

"I have a meeting with Representative Boyd's communication director. Just two colleagues, swapping notes."

"Look at you, all important and scooting down to D.C. to chat with the big dogs."

"Apparently people are talking about me," she said with a light attitude.

"It's a whispering campaign. I started it when you were two, but it took a really long time to catch on," Lorelai said with a Cheshire grin on her face. "Why is Tristan going?"

Rory paused in thought. "I'm not sure. He said he had business to do, and that we should just ride down together."

"And here you thought he was fresh out of secrets," Lorelai scoffed.

"Then it's a good thing I know effective ways of getting him to talk," she said confidently as she raised her eyebrows a couple of times.

Lorelai grimaced. "Maybe I should have put that filter in after all."

"You know what they say about hindsight," Rory mused as she hugged her mother.

"You have time to figure out what you want. It'll come to you."

Rory nodded and departed her mother's house, headed back to Hartford with hope that Lorelai was right—that she her plan B would start to materialize in a more visible form, if it wasn't what she was working toward already.

XXXX

"Theodore Roosevelt?" Rory asked skeptically, looking down at him as she sat up against the headboard with a pillow over her torso.

His head was rested against her thighs, his current pillow, and he was smiling up at her. "Yes."

"He's your favorite president? He was a Republican."

"Only because that whole Bull Moose thing never caught on. Besides, he was badass. Who's yours?"

"Jefferson," she supplied. "Though Kennedy is a close second."

"Interesting combination," he said as he contemplated her selections. "I assume that you admire Kennedy for more than his charisma and sex appeal."

"You know, as someone who relies on their charm to get them what they want on a regular basis, you should admire that quality in him."

He slid a hand under her pillow. "Is that what I do?"

She shifted against his hand and glared at him. "On occasion," she answered.

"Are you really going to blame me for the fact that you find me irresistible?" he asked as he leaned his torso up toward hers.

"I have the ability to resist you," she maintained, though her eyes grew wider as he looked into them at such a close range.

"You just choose not to?" he asked.

"Sometimes," she managed as her gaze fell on the full softness of his mouth. His hand was smoothing over the curve of her hip.

"So, right now, when you should be going to bed and kicking me out so you can get a full night's sleep before your big meeting tomorrow, you're purposefully choosing to fall to my charms?" he clarified.

She raked her bottom lip through her teeth in an attempt to distract herself from his features long enough to answer his question. "It's hardly a big meeting," she replied, circumventing the fact that she was not interested in letting him leave her bed.

He kissed her cheek. "You're cute when you act all humble," he informed her, with laughter in his eyes.

"What are you talking about?" she pressed, still holding the pillow tight to her chest.

"Rory, you're taking a meeting in Washington. That's never considered small. Jack encouraged you, right?"

She nodded. "He introduced me to Booth, too."

Tristan ran a hand up her cheek. "You're being groomed."

"For what?" she asked, curious at the assumption.

"Life in Washington. Being a part of the bigger picture. State level government is one thing, but a national campaign is a whole new ballgame. Booth is in Washington, and he wants to compare notes. What does that tell you?"

Rory frowned. "Well, I mean, I guess that makes sense."

Tristan kissed her softly. "It does. It's a good thing. It means the campaign is viewed as favorable by higher ups, and that the moment the election is over we have the green light to focus on the presidential bid."

She took in his words as his lips met her neck. She was too lost in her thoughts to give herself over to what would normally make her mind go blank. "So, what's your business in D.C.?"

He paused against her skin. "Nothing."

"You just said nothing that takes place in Washington is considered small. Since nothing is less than small, your own logic calls you out."

He planted one more solid kiss on her shoulder. "Give me that pillow."

"Answer first," she wagered.

He narrowed his eyes in dismay. "I'm meeting with Boyd."

She jacked her eyebrow up. "About?"

"Stuff."

"What kind of stuff?"

He exhaled. "You know, things. This and that."

"Oh, that explains it all. So vividly, too. You know, maybe you should consider taking my old job at the paper. Circulation would skyrocket."

He rolled his eyes. "What happened to no work in bed?"

She poked a finger in his chest. The fact that it was such a well-defined chest distracted her only slightly—there was time for admiration later. "Things got messy, remember?"

He came within a hair's breadth of her lips with his. "Does that mean one of your little outbursts in my office might turn into a much more entertaining option?"

She kissed him lightly, just brushing her mouth on his. "I don't have outbursts. You're the moody one, remember?"

"Yes, but I can get you riled up with minimal effort."

"Just answer the question," she said in attempt to refocus him, even though she was having trouble with the focusing her attention on actual conversation given the circumstances.

"Which was?" he asked, feigning confusion.

"The meeting with Boyd. Did he call you or did you call him?"

"He called me, but I would have called him for a chat soon enough."

"Regarding?" she led.

He sighed. "The State's Attorney race. He's concerned about the direction it's going, as am I."

"Does he want you to run?"

He shook his head. "It's too late for that. And I wouldn't just leave Jack so close to the election."

She breathed easier. "Good. I mean, not that you shouldn't run. But leaving Jack now would be," she began.

He cut her off. "I hope you know I'm not really that much of an inconsiderate ass. I might have my moments, but I do care about some things."

She smiled and tapped the pillow with her palm. "Like getting rid of this pillow?"

He smiled back. "She knows me so well."

"So what does he want to discuss?"

"That's why I'm going down, to find out."

She sighed. "Then why were you going to arrange a meeting with him, if you aren't sure what he wants?"

"I have concerns with my father's possible involvement in that campaign."

She frowned. "He's in jail."

He appeared amused. "So?"

"So, how can he be involved with a campaign?"

"Plenty of people do business with the outside from jail."

Rory frowned again as she looked off to the side. "I hate that my mother is always right."

He hesitated in confusion. "What?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. You think he's really involved?"

He shrugged. "I think I don't trust him. So I'm going to talk with Boyd and see what's what. Besides, it was good timing. This way we get to share a train and I can take you out for lunch afterward."

"For a working lunch?" she asked pointedly.

"Hey, you got me to discuss work in bed. You can play footsie with me under the table at lunch."

She laughed. "Play footsie? What are you, in high school?"

He eyed her skeptically. "You would have slugged me in high school if I'd run my foot up your leg. Not that I wouldn't have tried given the opportunity."

She felt her chest get heavy. "Are you sure about that?"

"You hated me back then, remember?" he asked, his voice low.

She tossed the pillow to the side. "I barely knew you in high school. But I definitely did not hate you."

"You said you did," he reminded her as his hands began roaming over her stomach and up the curves of her chest.

"Everyone says things they don't mean, especially when it concerns something they don't understand."

She kissed him then, easing the tension that had built up between them as they'd talked. It felt like a feat of strength to keep her attention on words when they were alone like that, with his hands on her skin and nothing separating them but their thoughts.

"You didn't understand me?" he inferred.

She looked straight into his eyes. "I didn't understand a lot of things. Least of all what I felt for you. It didn't fit into my life, so I didn't deal with it."

He kissed her that time. "And now do I fit?"

"See for yourself," she eluded, successfully ending the conversation as he grabbed her hips and pulled her down underneath him. His movements were swift and sure, and she had her answer with all due haste.

XXXX

Rory came out of the bedroom in a frenzied search, her eyes scanning surfaces. "Have you seen my phone?"

He poured a cup of coffee and yawned. "It's probably under the mountain of mail you insist on neglecting. That table is going to fall to the weight of it soon enough," he informed her.

She moved to the stack and frowned. "It's got to be here someplace," she said, in a haze before glancing down at her stacks of mail. "I'm busy, and none of this is vital. Okay, most of it isn't. It's mostly just catalogs and takeout menus."

"So dump it in the recycle," he said as he walked up beside her and handed her a mug.

She took the drink and turned to the living room, set to search the couch cushions. He idly picked at her mail.

"Seriously, why are you on some of these mailing lists? L.L. Bean?" he questioned.

She pried up a cushion and stuck her hand down between the back and the bottom of the furniture. "I ordered some fishing gear for my mom's boyfriend for Christmas last year. I'm not sure how they found me at this address, though," she admitted.

"Here's a good one. Chef's Catalog? Since when do you cook?" he asked, his eyes dancing in jest.

She replaced the cushion and put her hand underneath the couch. "I bought my mom's friend, who is a chef, something from there two years ago."

"You must be a good customer for them to keep tabs on you like this," he shook his head as he tossed items to be taken to the recycling bins to one side. "Here's three for Harry and David. Another gift, I assume?"

She sat up on her knees and smiled sheepishly. "Actually, that's just for me. I really, really love those chocolate pears they have."

He nodded, putting one of the few aside. "Noted. Hey, what's this?" he held up a tri-folded document. "It looks like a lease extension," he scanned it.

"It is," she said, standing up and scanning the apartment carefully. She moved to the counter and picked up her purse, dumping the many contents onto the counter. "A-ha!"

"Why are you extending your lease?" he asked, still holding the papers.

Her triumph at finding her phone faded. "So I'll have somewhere to live after the election," she answered easily. "My dad offered to let me move in with him, but even he knew that was never going to happen."

He frowned. "You like this place that much?"

She considered it for a second and shrugged. "I guess. I mean, all my stuff's here and it's in Hartford. Moving is such a pain. I will have to drive to the Statehouse, but that's the price of winning, right?" she joked until she saw the troubled expression on his face wasn't budging. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. We should get going."

"Yeah, we should," she agreed half-heartedly, unsure of why her lease bothered him. "Is there something in all the legal speak that sounds off in the agreement?"

He picked up the stack of discarded catalogs. "No, it's standard. If you're sure this is where you want to stay, then sign it. I'm going to drop these in the recycle, I'll meet you at the car."

She nodded as he left through the front door. She picked up the lease and stared at the sticky tab that instructed her where to give her signature. She gave one more once-over to the apartment her grandmother had filled for her and shoved the lease in her bag before heading out the door to meet Tristan.

XXXX

Rory gave her name to Edward Booth's assistant and sat to wait. She glanced down at her bag and bit her lip as she spied the corner of the lease peeking out. She and Tristan hadn't spoken of it on the train—she'd napped on his shoulder and he'd read a newspaper. She couldn't imagine he wasn't tired, but she'd certainly been glad of the nap. They'd been up more than half the night, as was fairly normal for their post-work interactions of late. She was almost used to the feel of him in her life after hours—but the simple act of falling asleep against him and waking up with his arm around her shoulders on a train in broad daylight felt pleasant in another way. To the rest of the train passengers, they looked like a couple on the early morning train. The moment they got back, they'd slip into their separate roles, but for a while that day anyhow they were a single unit. It felt easy and good.

A door opened and Edward Booth appeared. "Miss Gilmore," he beckoned. "Come on in."

She stood and gave him a smile. "Thanks for the invitation."

"Not at all. Have you been to D.C. much?"

She nodded. "A few times, for work. Once in high school for a student government training program."

"I heard the good news, that you'll be staying on with Jack after he takes office," he led.

She nodded. "Yes."

"And I would assume you would stay on for his next campaign, should he seek the presidency?"

Rory cleared her throat. "I would give it the same consideration I have given his other offers. Though Jack is difficult to deny, when his mind is set to something."

Edward smiled. "I should imagine so. Hell of a guy you have there. I thought the mess with his original speechwriter would cause his campaign to falter, but in you came and up he climbed."

"I can't take all the credit. Jack's certainly able to get a crowd eating out of his hand with minimal effort, and Tristan keeps vigil on any and all issues pertaining to the race—I only have to get my hands dirty when things progress past his intervention, which isn't often."

"Ah, yes, Tristan Dugrey. Plenty of people have bets how far he'll go with Jack before he sets up shop for himself. And you shouldn't be selling yourself short, Miss Gilmore."

"I can't speak for Tristan's future plans," she said as detached as she could manage to sound.

"I'm more interested in your future plans," he said as he leaned back in his chair. "Jack and Charles are good friends, and I wanted to extend myself to you. When the time comes, I hope you'll use me as a resource if you need. We need good men like Jack stepping up, and for him to rise to the top, he needs people like you. I don't have to tell you that a campaign is a joint effort."

She nodded. "I am well aware. And I'm happy to support Jack in any way. I'm honored to be a part of his team."

Edward smiled. "Excellent. I know it seems reaching, but you have to keep that bigger picture in mind, even as you progress through the smaller races. Governor is a tough race, but it's a pittance compared to the road to the presidency. So many qualified men, and women, fall to the primaries. You have to come in swinging, you have to be solid, and you can't falter. If you can nail those things, Jack will sail through to the Oval Office. Then you can take me out for lunch to thank me."

She smiled at his support and goodwill. "I will do that."

Rory left his office a short while later, heading straight down to the main lobby of the building they'd both had meetings in that morning. She did a cursory sweep to find Tristan wasn't in the vicinity and decided to go outside for some fresh air.

He was sitting on a railing, a long, flat expanse of stone, at the top of the formidable staircase that led from the front doors to the street. He noticed her at once but continued his phone call. The moment he wrapped it up, he slid down from his perch.

"Everything okay?" she asked, referring to his lined forehead and stilted conversation on the phone.

He shook his head. "It will be. I think."

She cocked her head and took a step closer to him, letting her hand come to rest on his forearm. The wind whipped her hair around her neck, but she didn't move from him to attend to it. "We can talk about it over lunch."

He nodded. "I'm not all that hungry."

"We don't have to," she said, pulling back.

"No, let's go get lunch. I promised. Come on," he said, taking her hand and slipping it through his bent arm. They descended the staircase together, off to lunch with two very weighted minds despite the ease with which they moved together.

XXXX

Rory sat at the counter on a stool in the kitchen at the Dragonfly Inn, grabbing a fourth chocolate chip cookie. She groaned again, and Sookie Melville slid a large glass of milk in front of her.

"They're perfect for dipping," she encouraged.

"Thanks, Sookie," Rory said appreciatively.

"You wanna talk about it?" she offered gently, picking up her knife and running it through some carrots on a cutting board at the end of the prep station.

Rory shrugged. "I need to renew my lease."

"Okay," Sookie drawled. "And you hate your apartment?"

Rory bit a fourth of the cookie off and chewed thoughtfully. "It's fine. Grandma found it and decorated it. It's really close to work, at least, for now," she explained as she usually did.

"Well, if Emily Gilmore decorated it, I'm sure it's very… stately," she offered.

Rory took the remainder of the cookie and dunked it into the milk. "Tristan's acting weird."

"This is the boyfriend?" Sookie said, dumping her chopped carrots into a soup on the stove before coming back over and sitting across from Rory.

"Sort of. Yes. I mean, I think so. We've been seeing each other, and I thought we were on the same page. Two nights ago? We were totally on the same page. But yesterday morning, he got all weird when he found my lease extension on the dining table, and he got quieter and moodier all day. He had a meeting that didn't seem to go well yesterday morning, but he won't talk about that either."

Sookie offered her another cookie.

Rory waved in negation. "No thanks. I mean, why would he be upset that I'm staying in my apartment? That means I'm staying in Hartford to work with Jack, which is where he'll be. Shouldn't that be good news?"

Sookie gave a chortle. "Men are so funny. Jackson freaked out when we were dating, because his lease was up and I told him to renew it."

Rory took the cookie from Sookie's proffered hand and took an anxious bite. "What happened then?"

"Well, we had a big fight, and then he said we should move in together, and when I finally agreed to talk about it, he said he didn't want to move in together, and then he proposed," she frowned. "It was more romantic than it sounds."

Rory's eyes widened. "Oh my God. He can't possibly think that we're ready to move in together or get married!"

Sookie looked nervous of having said the wrong thing. "You know, I think I should go find your mom. She's better at this stuff."

Rory finished off her cookie and nodded. "These are really good, Sookie."

"I'll go get Lorelai, you have as many as you like," Sookie assured her. When the women came in to the kitchen together, Rory had another cookie half-soggy with milk up to her lips.

"Oh dear," Lorelai muttered under her breath. "Man trouble?"

Rory looked up from her milk and cookie.

"She has to renew her lease," Sookie offered.

Lorelai looked from her best friend to her daughter. "I'm going to need more details and a cookie," she said, reaching to grab one of the dwindling pile.

Rory swallowed. "Tristan saw my lease extension papers and got all quiet and weird."

Lorelai pointed to Sookie. "That sounds like what happened with you and Jackson," she remembered.

Rory's mouth dropped open. "You think he's going to propose too?"

Lorelai cringed. "No, I'm just, I mean," she took a deep breath and released it. "Has he done anything else to lead you to believe that's something he might do?"

Rory scowled. "I'm not very good at noticing when a man is ready to propose to me."

Lorelai nodded, realizing the need to tread lightly. "Right. Have you talked about living together? I mean, you two are spending a lot of nights together, right?"

Rory shook her head. "We haven't discussed it. He took me to his house, but he never mentioned getting rid of his apartment to move back in there, or even hinted at us sharing one of our apartments—nothing."

"Maybe he wants the option of discussing it in the near future," Lorelai suggested, grabbing another cookie. "These are addicting. What did you put in these, crack?" she addressed Sookie.

Sookie crossed her chest with a wooden spoon. "Secret recipe."

Lorelai scoffed. "Forget that. You need to put out a cookbook and start raking in the cash."

"If he does want to move in together, why can't he just say so and not act like I'm shortchanging him by staying in my apartment?" Rory blurted out, ignoring the side conversation.

Lorelai turned her attention back to her daughter. "We'll get back to the cookbook. Honey, you should talk to him. It's a conversation, and not one I can help you with. Luke just sort of gradually moved in. It started with a toothbrush and a change of clothes, and then suddenly his grandmother's terrifying furniture showed up."

"Oh, yeah," Sookie shuddered.

"What I mean is, it's different for everyone. Luke eased in. Jackson cannonballed with the whole kit and marriage caboodle. You moved in with Logan when all your belongings were unceremoniously dumped into a hallway by a crazy roommate."

Rory nodded. "Yeah, I know. It's just that we just found this rhythm. We haven't really made it public, but when we're together I feel like we're able to be open with each other, and I can definitely see it leading somewhere. But we're not ready for a big step. And I don't want to do it like I did with Logan, to move in together to avoid being homeless," she sighed. "It's been too much, with the grooming and the lease."

"I'm sorry, the grooming?" Lorelai asked, passing Rory and Sookie each a cookie before taking another for herself. She took a bite. "Oh, Sook, you gotta hide the rest of these."

Sookie smiled happily. "A cookbook, huh?"

Lorelai nodded. "Yes. Now, what grooming?" she asked as she turned back to Rory.

Rory sighed after she swallowed more cookie. "Tristan says they're grooming me, for life in D.C. Jack and a few others are making sure I'm on board to follow him to through his run for President and on."

Lorelai's eyes widened. "And are you?"

Rory finished her cookie. "I think so. But what if we're ready for a bigger step by then and he's running in Hartford?" she asked, her eyes showing her struggle to her mother.

Lorelai put her hand over her daughter's. "Just take it one step at a time. You don't have to choose now, do you?"

Rory shrugged in defeat. "I'm not ready to, but everyone makes it seem like I should. Everyone else is focused on the next election, and this one isn't over yet."

Sookie watched her with concern. "Want another cookie?"

"Thanks, Sookie," Rory nodded, taking another one.

"Talk to him. Sitting around here eating cookies isn't going to help, as good as they are."

Rory nodded and stood up. "You're right. I'm going to go to his office and make him tell me what happened in his meeting and gently skirt the lease issue, to see which one was behind his mood."

"Wait!" Sookie urged as Rory grabbed her purse. She dumped the remaining cookies into a bakery bag. "Take these. Just in case, it'll save you a trip."

Rory smiled and hugged the two women. She thanked them again and took her cookies with her back to Hartford, ready to break through his raised defenses and at the very least get back to their newly found normal. She did her best to ignore the feeling that whatever was going on, there was no way back to the way things used to be.


	15. The Impression That I Get

Story Title: No Way Back

Chapter Title: The Impression That I Get

Description: Rory Gilmore gets tangled up in the other side of politics, but is she prepared to tangle with all it entails? Not if Tristan Dugrey has anything to say about it.

Rating: M

AN: Hello, all. So, I had this chapter written, and it seemed… wrong. So I scrapped most of what I'd written and brought out the same main points in a slightly different way. I like this much better, mainly because it adds more tension to come. Oh, the drama! Oh, and the title is from The Mighty, Mighty Bosstones. Whatever happened to those guys?

Rory opened the door to Tristan's office and shut it as quickly as she'd entered. His head popped up from his work and he regarded her with surprise. "Aren't you the one that lectures me on knocking?"

She tossed the bag of cookies onto his desk. "There. Those will make up for my bad manners," she assured him.

He grabbed the bag and unrolled it to peek inside. "You brought me cookies?"

"I thought we could share. I gave you cookies. Now how about you tell me what happened in D.C. when you met with Boyd?" she offered.

He closed the bag and set it aside. "We talked."

She sat down in the chair across from him. "I'm going to need a few more details than that."

He shook his head. "No, you don't. Nothing I discussed with him concerns you or this campaign, and I am going to do everything in my power to make sure it remains that way."

"By not telling me?" she checked.

He nodded. "For starters."

"I thought we were telling each other things now. Remember all that talk about how the parts of your life were overlapping, and it was getting messy? You were okay with that a couple of days ago."

He steeled himself and looked her dead in the eyes. "This isn't just messy. It's leapfrogged over that and straight into trying to keep things from blowing up in our faces."

"So don't let it," she instructed sternly.

He looked up to the corner of the room. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"Hey, I can't help if you don't tell me what's going on," she seethed.

He pointed a finger at her. "I'm glad you're catching on. Thanks for the cookies. Now don't let me keep you from work," he added. "The last six weeks are a bitch."

"I'm not letting this go. Something happened, and you're acting weird. You didn't come over last night," she reminded him. She'd expected him to come over and at least be evasive in person. By the time she'd realized he wasn't coming to her, it had been too late to seek him out.

He sighed. "I needed to think."

"Just so we're clear, this is not the way to end things between us. If you're over it, just tell me, but don't push me away like this, under the guise of acting noble," she began. "First I thought you were upset about my lease, but this is something else."

He tensed but kept up his detached responses. "You should renew your lease. It's a good apartment, and you'll be here for four more years. I won't let my issues become Jack's issues."

"Or mine?" she asked pointedly.

"Please," he closed his eyes, as she hit the limits of his resolve. "Let me take care of this. It's my problem."

She stood up. "I know you're used to having to deal with everything on your own, but things have changed. At least, I thought they had."

He stood and walked around the desk. His hand reached out for hers. "Let me find out the full extent of what's happening. I'm just asking you to trust me. I'm trying to do the right thing here. If this somehow casts a pall over Jack's campaign, I'll have to resign, and I don't want you to have to jeopardize your career too. No one wants staffers who resign in times of scandal."

"Have you told Jack?" she asked appraisingly.

He shook his head. "I will, when I need to. Like I said, I need time to figure out the game that's being set up, and it might not reach as far as this campaign. I want you to be able to say no comment with a clear conscious if it comes to that until I have a better answer."

She licked her lips and pressed them together. "This has to do with your dad?"

He leaned his forehead against hers. "Please let this go."

She pulled away. "I think you're being selfish for trying to keep me out of this. You might not want help, but it's my choice whether or not to get involved, and I thought in the very least things between us were good enough to tell each other stuff like this."

"Things are good," he groaned in frustration. "But if we stand a chance of keeping things between on us under the radar then you can't help me fight my battles."

"Then maybe we shouldn't worry about keeping things quiet," she impressed upon him.

"What?" he asked, taken aback.

"Let's tell Jack about us," she offered easily.

He cocked his head to the side. "Do you know there's a pool going among the local politicians, to see how long Jack can keep me before I strike out on my own? We joke about it, but in the back of his mind, he knows that there's a possibility that this might be the only race I run for him. The second he finds out about us, he'll start to question your loyalty. Is that what you want?"

She narrowed her gaze at him. "You want me to be loyal to Jack over you? Is that what you're actually saying?"

He rubbed at his eyes. "I want you to be smart. I want you to be selfish. I want you to let me figure out what I want and not make me worry about what it might to do you."

Her expression hardened. "Fine."

"Rory," he sighed.

"No, I got your message loud and clear. You don't need to worry about me, I'll just be doing whatever I want," she said, turning and storming out of his office. She'd had more than enough of offering her help to him, only to be pushed away. She went straight to Jack's office to tell him she needed to run an errand. Her lease paperwork was due the next day, and it seemed like there was no time like the present. After all, as Tristan had pointed out, she was going to need a place to live if she intended to stay in Hartford as promised for the next four years. Given no better option, that apartment would suffice just fine. She knocked on his door and stared through the glass at a familiar face that turned to acknowledge her presence along with Jack.

She opened the door at Jack's beckoning. "Judge Dugrey?"

He gave her a tight smile. "Come join us, please."

She did a double take to make sure Tristan's door was still shut before she closed the door. "It's a pleasure to see you again."

"How's he taking it?" Janlan asked, nodding in the direction she'd just come from.

"Ah, I'm sorry?" she asked warily.

Janlan frowned. "Did Tristan not tell you?"

Rory looked at Jack. "What's going on?"

Jack cleared his throat. "There have been some concerns raised about the race for State's Attorney."

"Concerns that affect our campaign?" she inquired, unsure of the nature of the meeting.

Jack shook his head. "No, we're fine. Any fallout that results would only pertain to Tristan."

"That's why he's in such a mood?" she asked Janlan.

He nodded. "I thought he might have explained the situation to you," he said knowingly.

"No, he's not in a very sharing mood," she said, and then she cleared her throat. "What's happened?"

Janlan and Jack shared a look. "The front runner, Brockman, he's had something of a whirlwind courtship that flew under the radar and has just announced his engagement," Janlan began evenly.

Rory nodded idly. "Okay."

"To Ashley Bingham," Jack supplied.

Rory's head jerked up. "Tristan's," she began, suddenly on alert.

"Yes," Janlan confirmed. "It's my strong suspicion that they were acquainted by an interested third party. If Brockman wins, which at this point it seems likely he will, and Tristan decides to run in the next election, then he'll have to deal with a part of his past that may not shine him in the best light, especially given the way Brockman and his team play."

Rory sat down. "No wonder he's pissed."

"There have been concerns as to Brockman's agenda in general, but Boyd has expressed an interest in attempting to deal with this development now. Once Brockman claims the office, it becomes exponentially more difficult to keep Tristan's reputation out of the crossfire during his bid. The main problem is his current opponent is running a clean campaign, at the cost of being trampled. He needs someone on his staff to combat some of this to pull his numbers down, but Segielman's head is in the sand."

Rory took a deep breath to focus her racing thoughts. "There's only six weeks left."

"And four weeks until my son is up for parole," Janlan added carefully.

Rory frowned. "Wait. You think he's the interested third party and that this is all a leverage point to get him out of jail?"

Jack shrugged and deferred to Janlan. "I think that it was an offer Brockman was happy to take, and that my son knows that since Tristan's testimony was damning, his assurance to a judge that his father's time in prison has changed him would be nearly as beneficial."

"He doesn't know Tristan at all if he thinks blackmailing Tristan's future chances at a career in politics is the way to do that," Rory clarified. She turned to Jack. "What's your role in this? Doesn't all this mean that Tristan would be free and clear to enter his own race in the next election?"

Jack smiled. "I entered into this knowing that Tristan would only be under my umbrella for a short time, if he was smart."

She nodded and thought for a second. "Why are you telling me all this? He didn't want me to know any of it. Trust me, I tried to get it out of him," she assured Janlan.

Janlan smiled. "He and I share one view. You can help shut this down. He doesn't want to make you choose. I want to offer you the choice."

She nodded emphatically. "I want to help. You said we need to shut it down before this election occurs?"

"Boyd's thoughts were if we get all of Brockman's dirty laundry out, including his soon-to-be wife's past—not limited to her history of fast and hushed engagements—that it will no longer be a breaking news story when Tristan's name is attached the campaign. Push it through while it can hurt Brockman and not touch Segielman."

"Make it old news," Rory nodded. "I know someone, who might be interested in taking over Segielman's campaign, if you're sure you can get him to see the cards on the table and replace his current guy."

Janlan leaned in. "With numbers this dismal, Boyd's sure he can get him to budge with some harsh realities. Who do you have in mind?"

Rory sighed, disheartened at her own idea. "An old friend from college. He's with Senator Ross, but he's looking for some fresh blood, as he put it."

"Is he ruthless?"

Rory let out a derisive laugh. "I'm not sure he even has morals. But he's smart and he'd get a kick out of exposing a front runner."

Janlan nodded, satisfied with her reasoning. "Call him."

"What about Tristan?"

"The less he's involved, the better," Jack assured her.

"But he's going to find out," Rory reasoned. "And he thinks this is something he needs to deal with himself."

"Yes, but he needs to learn to depend on someone at some point," Janlan said. "He's already dealt with this once. It's my turn now."

Rory nodded as she stood up. "I'll go call Robert."

"Rory, if I could have a word with you alone, for a moment?" Janlan asked, rising from his seat next to her.

Jack stood as well. "You two stay here. I'll be back," he said as he took leave of his office.

Rory turned to Janlan. "He's not going to like this. He hates Robert," she admitted.

"Don't worry about that," he waved his hand.

"Do you know what happened, between him and Ashley?"

He nodded slowly. "He told me."

Rory shook her head bitterly. "She was the one that was wrong. They'll play it like he cheated and then forced her out with nothing. It's just her word against his."

He smiled. "That's not exactly what it is."

"I don't understand."

Janlan shifted uncomfortably. "My wife was not pleased with the circumstances surrounding Tristan's marriage."

Rory put up one hand to pause him. "I thought the marriage was her idea."

He nodded. "It was. But only because she believed, as we all did, that the pregnancy was real. She failed to trust this woman was Tristan's choice of wife, nor did she trust this woman to have our family's best interest at heart. So, she sat down with the girl and our lawyers and had her sign prenuptial papers on behalf of the Dugrey estate. One stipulation was that should the union dissolve for any reason, she was not to speak of the family to press in any context. My wife held a strong belief in upholding the family name."

Rory thought for a minute. "Tristan knows about this?"

Janlan shook his head. "I didn't either until recently. I just found the papers after her death."

"But they're still binding?"

Janlan nodded. "But that doesn't mean she hasn't filled Brockman in on all the sordid details. Unfortunately, he can speak to the press on any manner in which he chooses. But should we find evidence of her discussing it with the media, we have some legal avenues to pursue."

Rory nodded and crossed her arms protectively. "I appreciate you telling me all this, but I got the distinct impression that he wants to deal with this without me."

Janlan put a hand on her shoulder. "And I got the impression that you knew better than to listen to everything he says."

She had no doubt that Janlan was working for Tristan's best interest. He certainly had all the information. She nodded. "I'll call Robert."

"Good girl," he advised. "I'll be in touch soon."

Rory watched the older man take his leave. She paused outside of Tristan's door on her way back to her office, fighting the urge to go in to talk to him. She knew he still wasn't ready to discuss the way his past had suddenly cropped up to threaten his future, and wouldn't be willing to jump on board any plan that had others risking their careers to make way for a path he wasn't ready to take yet. She stepped past his door and shut her own office door. She picked up her cell phone and dialed a number.

"Hello, Robert? It's Rory Gilmore."

XXXX

"Thanks for meeting with me on such short notice," Rory said with all the politeness she could muster. It was at the forefront of her mind, the thought that she needed a favor from this person she didn't want to be indebted to.

Robert smiled. "I don't like to keep beautiful women waiting. It's a rule I live by."

Rory smiled tightly. "Were you serious about wanting to get into an election?"

"You know someone who needs a campaign manager for the next election?" he inquired with an easy interest.

"More like this election," she corrected.

He laughed and took a drink. "You almost had me."

"I'm serious," she impressed, meeting his eyes purposefully.

"Oh God, you are. Who's dumb or desperate enough to need a new guy six weeks out?"

"It's a complicated situation, but there is a group of concerned parties that would like to give aid to Segielman in an effort to prevent Brockman from taking the State's Attorney's race."

Robert smirked. "Does your boyfriend frown on his ex-wife finding a more viable candidate?"

Rory tensed. "Tristan is no fan of Brockman, but he's not involved in this effort."

"Why should he need to, with you as his spokesmodel?" he tilted his head to one side, clearly enjoying the conversation and the position she was putting him in.

"Segielman isn't fighting back against Brockman's dirty tricks. There is a wealth of information on Brockman, not to mention his new fiancé, and with you at the helm of a last-ditch effort, I think you can help Segielman edge Brockman out."

"All this so Dugrey won't have to fight his own battle with Brockman later?" Robert surmised quickly.

"Tristan hasn't announced his intention to run. But if it should all come out now, it would be less damaging if Tristan decides to run at a later date. Not to mention it would save the office and the people of Connecticut from the likes of Brockman. I'm sure an eventuality where corrupt practices have free reign doesn't bother you much, but the rest of us would prefer to keep criminals in jail."

Robert squared his shoulders. "This includes Dugrey Senior?"

"You know he's up for parole soon?" Rory asked in surprise.

"I have an inquiring mind," he confessed. "After our little run-in, I caught up with issues surrounding some of my old friends. For example, did you know that Ashley Bingham was recently engaged to someone before taking up with Brockman?"

Rory's ears perked up. "Who?"

Robert lifted his shoulders and dropped them coyly. "I like that you're willing to play dirty and deal in gossip for Dugrey. I knew you weren't a total Girl Scout."

Rory rolled her eyes. "Does that mean you'll take on Segielman?"

Robert nodded. "For a price."

"Salary is included," she reminded him.

He shook his head, his expression dry. "You know me better than that."

"What is it you want?" she asked in irritation.

"Six weeks is quite the temporary assignment," he began as he settled comfortably into his seat. She had been hoping for a much faster agreement to terms. "My gig now maybe isn't the most exciting, but it does have longevity. At least, as long as the old man can avoid having a stroke or a massive coronary."

"If you can pull this off, I'm sure Segielman will put you on staff. I'm sure he'll be quite appreciative," she said, not willing to guarantee him anything.

"Yes, but it is a risk, isn't it? I mean, he's down in the polls. Way, way down. We're not talking a few percentage points; Brockman has him by the balls. Brockman's a bad boy—and people are drawn to his supposed rough, street hooligan turned prosecutor, out to clean up the streets and pay his penance fakery. What is it with Catholics and penance? All that confession; I've never believed it does anything for the soul."

Rory narrowed her eyes. "You have a soul?"

"Watch it, Gilmore. Your pretty blonde boy needs me," he reminded her.

"Fine. Continue your diatribe," she sighed.

He smiled. "Does your drink need refreshing? I can't remember how much of a drinker you were. I know Logan could imbibe until he got sloppy, but you always seemed so contained."

"I'm fine. What is it exactly you want?"

"Well, just doing the math in my head, if I get Segielman elected, then that means Brockman will be turning tail and going back to the private sector where he helps free drug dealers and gang members that he owes debts to, and Dugrey is free to run in the next election. That creates two very lucrative positions."

She hesitated. "I can't make any offers on Tristan's behalf."

"Funny. Isn't that what you're doing now?" he pinned her.

"I told you, he doesn't know about our efforts to help him."

"As heartwarming as that is, you have to have a bargaining chip. I knew you were green, but I assumed you had come to realize that all politics revolve around favors by now. I don't owe you one, so if you're asking me for one, you have to have something to bargain with. It's a very simpatico system."

"Sounds more like shady, backroom dealing."

"And that's why you want me. And if you want me, you have to play my way."

Rory stifled a groan. She knew he was right, though she hated it. What's more, she knew Tristan would be furious at her for lowering herself to Robert's level, for any reason. "I'll talk to Jack. If Tristan leaves, then he'll need to fill that position."

"A national campaign," Robert smiled. "It does hold more attraction than a measly little State's Attorney race. Though I do admit this Brockman race is rife with untapped scandal. I would love to see the look on his face when he loses after being so far ahead for such a long time. Hitting him from out of nowhere at the finish line will be a true pleasure."

"So you'll do it?"

Robert nodded. "The old man probably won't even realize I've left him. I've dealt with all his batshit crazy behavior for so long; what was amusing at first has grown tired. So now I'll help you. As long as you return the favor if this so-called effort fails. Believe it or not, but I don't have that many friends willing to give me a helping hand when I'm down and out."

"I will decline to comment on that and skip to thanking you. Start immediately. You'll be getting a call soon, with more information. I'll talk to Jack as I promised, but after that I'm done. I'm just the intermediary—a mutual acquaintance between someone who needs help and someone who can offer that assistance."

He smiled at her. "It was your suggestion," he said plaintively.

"What?" she asked warily.

"To bring me in."

"Yes," she admitted.

"Knowing how much Dugrey despises me."

"He doesn't despise you," she amended.

"Oh, yes, he does. It's okay, Gilmore. I'm used to the feeling. It's not like I have some ill-fated desire to be his best friend. If he got hit by a bus tomorrow, I'd have a hell of a time at his wake."

She hesitated. "Are you Catholic?"

He laughed. "Good one, Gilmore. I should get to work. You probably have some midnight oil to burn as well, huh?"

"In fact, I do. Thank you again. Enjoy your carnage," she said as she left some money on the bar and took her leave.

XXXX

She stood in front of his door after she knocked, hoping she'd come searching at the correct destination. She wasn't up for taking her little offering to the office in her search for him, even though the chances of anyone else showing up were slim to none. It was late, but most of his arrivals to her apartment had been of a similar hour. She knew not to expect him to come to her after her outburst and his repeated askance for time to think of how to handle the whole situation that he still believed she knew nothing of. Now that she was sure it was being handled in the best way, she was relieved and more than a little guilty for keeping the plan that had been set into action from him.

It was only a matter of time until he caught wind of what they'd done, and she was hoping for a little preemptive forgiveness, not to mention a little distraction that bought her more time from his eventual reaction. If nothing else, feeling his body against hers to remind her that she had done all this for a reason would ease her mind at that point. Her breath caught as she heard the door unlock and the knob turned.

"Hey," he said as he opened the door. His face was lined with concern, and she had to admit she was a little disappointed he hadn't greeted her with more pleasure. He didn't invite her in straightaway, so she remained in place and offered him a hesitant smile.

"Hey."

"If you're here for cookies, they're all gone."

She smiled. "They were pretty good, huh?"

He met her eyes with a steadfast determination. "I don't want to get into everything tonight."

She nodded. "I figured. I want you to know that I heard you earlier, and I didn't come over to grill you for details."

He lifted his chin as he studied her. "You didn't?"

She shook her head. "How we left things, what I said," she began. She had felt bad about the way she'd stormed out of his office, even if she felt justified by the way he had shut her out first.

"Get in here," he urged, shutting the door behind her. "You want me to take your coat?"

She put her hand over the buttons on her chest. "Not yet. Let me get this out, okay?"

He ran a hand down her arm. "You don't need to explain. The reason I don't want you involved in all this isn't because I don't trust you."

She inhaled and took a step closer to him. "I know. But you don't need to protect me either."

"Maybe I want to," he said, sounding like he wanted to do more than protect her. She could feel the heat rising between them; similar to the kind of heat that they'd generated in his office earlier that day, though instead of wanting to strangle him, she wanted to grind against him.

She grabbed a fistful of his grey undershirt and pulled herself closer to him. "I'd rather be with at your side than be sheltered from anything bad in your life. I want to be with you, and not with exemptions."

He ran a hand over one side of her hair. "You want to be with me, huh?" His hand tangled up in her hair, and she let herself be drawn in closer to him.

She nodded. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"You planning on staying a while?" he asked, his fingers moving to the fastened buttons on her long jacket.

She bit her lip and waited for him to undo her covering. As he opened it to remove the extra layer of clothing from her, he paused. She smiled at his stunned reaction. His eyes met hers.

"Why are you wearing that?" he asked in awe, though his surprise had definitely turned to intrigue.

"You don't like it?" she asked innocently as she watched him take in the outfit he had not seen in many years. She tossed her jacket onto the sofa.

His lip curled up on one side. "I never said that."

She glanced down at her uniform. "I forgot how itchy the skirt was."

He kissed her, as he ran his fingers down the line of buttons on her shirt. "Don't worry, you won't be wearing it long," he assured her, as he resumed kissing her.

"That was sort of the whole idea," she said as she smiled against his mouth. He began undressing her as they made their way in an entangled fashion back to his bedroom. Her shirt was hanging open by the time they made their way to the bed. His hand covered one cup of her bra as she knelt on the bed in front of him, and he pulled back from a heated kiss.

"I can't believe you still have this," he said as he stood in front of her at the edge of the bed. His hands slid down to her hips, feeling the fabric.

"It's come in handy over the years," she admitted.

"I can't imagine it's been as effective as it is with me," he said, fingering the top of the zipper at her side. "It brings back some very specific daydreams."

"You mean you weren't always paying attention in class?" she baited him as his hand traveled down from the zipper, leaving it intact, and his fingers brushed her leg at the edge of her hemline.

"Not when you were in attendance," he admitted, his fingers trailing up the inside of her thigh. "Looks like I don't have to be in such a hurry to get rid of the skirt," he said hungrily.

"What exactly did these daydreams entail?" she asked as he kissed the space between her breasts.

"Pretty much this," he admitted as he admired the view before him.

She felt his hand at the back of her bra and the sudden release of tension as the ends of fabric were released from their hooks. She shrugged the open shirt off her arms and tossed her bra to the side. She helped him lift his shirt up over his head, and he discarded it on the floor with the rest of the growing pile.

"I'm happy to finally give you the chance to realize this longtime dream," she said, running her hands down his chest slowly, enjoying her own view of him in front of her, his eyes overcome with desire and his body at the ready to join hers.

"Trust me, you'll benefit from this too," he said as his hand resumed its exploration under her skirt.

She put her hands on his face, coaxing him to look into her eyes. "You deserve to get a chance at your dreams."

"It's not a short list, where you're concerned," he informed her.

She smiled. "We'll tackle them one at a time, then," she encouraged, pulling him into her and kissing him as they lay back on his bed. She hoped she'd made the point that even his old dreams could still be brought to life. She had no doubts of that fact. One thing was for certain though; she was never getting rid of that skirt.

XXXX

Rory stood in the hallway for a minute before she knocked at Jack's office early the next morning. He waved her in as he looked up to see her and she took a few steps inside. "Do you have a minute?"

"I heard the good news, that Segielman has announced a new campaign manager. I expect the mud to be slinging by noon," he said evenly.

"It's not how people should have to win," she admitted, still feeling a nagging sensation at their indirect method of contributing to negative campaign tactics.

"No. But it's politics. It's going to enter into the equation at some point. No one's going to label Segielman as playing dirty, not after everything Brockman's pulled. Sometimes it's self-defense."

"Tristan doesn't know yet," she hedged the conversation.

He raised an eyebrow. "You've kept him occupied?"

She blushed by way of confirmation. "We should have told you."

Jack held up his hand. "It was plain to anyone with eyes and ears that there was something going on. I hadn't been sure you'd acted on it, or how serious it was, not until Janlan Dugrey suggested you would want to help with the covert mission on Tristan's behalf."

She bit her lip. "My being with him; it doesn't affect my job. He's not the reason I took it and he won't be the reason I leave. I want you to know that. I made that promise to work with you once you're in office, and I did that knowing that things might change in his career."

"I appreciate that. But you should wait and see how you feel when the time comes, before making certain decisions," Jack advised.

"Do you think he should run?"

He nodded. "That's why I'm getting involved. Granted, it's mostly Boyd and Judge Dugrey that spearheaded this crusade to combat whatever might come of these aligning threats, but Tristan has always been straight with me. I assume he had reasons for not divulging your relationship, and knowing him I assume it was on your behalf, to protect your aspirations."

"He wanted me to make my own decisions about the direction of my career."

"As do I. When he finds out about Segielman's changes, let me know?"

She nodded. "I will. And thank you."

He frowned. "For what?"

"Getting involved. He deserves a chance."

Jack nodded. "Anything else?"

She snapped her fingers. "Oh, yes. The car to take us to the town hall meeting in Ridgefield will be here at two; we're all riding together for prep, since you have that lunch meeting."

He nodded and gave a knowing laugh. "I'm sure that'll be an interesting ride."

She squared her shoulders. "I won't let it affect the campaign. Neither will he."

"Which is why I agreed to get involved," he assured her.

She nodded and turned to head back to her office. She'd left his apartment early, giving him a gentle kiss on the cheek as she slipped out of bed. She'd guessed he hadn't slept much the night before, as he had barely stirred at her touch. She knew the day would be a balance of his discovery of information she'd kept from him and a very long day of campaign duties. Her attempt at extending him a peace offering had gone over very well, but she feared she didn't have anything in her arsenal quite large enough to combat the reaction he was going to have upon learning the part she'd played in the sudden changes to the State's Attorney race.

She pulled out her phone in the confines of her office and dialed her mother.

"What is it with you and these early morning calls? If you lost your underwear again, I think it's time to stop looking and just hit the mall."

"This isn't about my underwear. Did I wake you?"

"I wish. I let Michel take over the staff meetings and he planned them for the middle of the night."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Maybe he's become a vampire and the sun will burn his skin. He does always cover it up when he goes outside in the day. He says it's for skincare purposes, but I'd say not having your flesh burn off is in the skincare realm, wouldn't you?"

"Michel is not a vampire. I'm almost certain of that fact. He's just very cranky and well groomed. What time was the meeting?"

"Six o'clock."

"That's not the middle of the night. That's widely considered morning."

"Not my morning. My morning doesn't start until eight."

"Well, since you're up, have you looked at a newspaper this morning?"

"No. I can't see well enough to focus on tiny print yet, as my eyes are burning so badly I had to wear my glasses because when I tried to put my contacts in it felt like I was stabbing myself with tiny shards of glass. If I had a newspaper, I'd roll it up and beat Michel senseless with it."

"I forgot how violent you were in the morning."

"Did you need something or just miss the sound of my ranting voice early in the morning?"

"I need advice. Well, theoretical advice."

"What did you theoretically do?"

"I teamed up with Tristan's grandfather, his old mentor, and our boss to help him in a matter he specifically told me to steer clear of."

"Lucy," Lorelai warned.

"He's going be mad when he finds out. Which I'm guessing will be as soon as he picks up a newspaper."

"I don't know him well, but I think that goes without saying."

"You drive men crazy all the time. What's the best way to distract him?"

"That would make an excellent epitaph. Here lies Lorelai Gilmore, she drove men crazy all the time," she said to try it out.

"Seeing as you're not on your death bed, I'll be sure to file that one away for now."

"Fine. If you want to distract him from something major, such as interference into his private life and conspiring with others concerning such matters, you're going to have to go drastic in order to take his mind off it. I find getting naked usually works no matter the transgression. Oh, or you could finally bring up moving in together, which I'm sure you chickened out of earlier. Proposing to a guy usually works too, but then you're risking him saying yes, unless you want him to say yes," she said with a yawn.

"Am I boring you?"

"It's early!" Lorelai defended.

"I'm at work, so I'm going to say getting naked is out of the question. He's not going to want to discuss moving in together when he hears what's going on. He might be keen on breaking up with me for going behind his back, though."

"So the marriage proposal might be out of place," she pointed out. "Though that's what prompted you and Logan to call it quits. Except it might work the other way around, Max proposed to me when I suggested we break up."

"You're not helpful when you're tired. You're inappropriately lucid."

"If you knew he'd be so upset, why did you do it in the first place?" Lorelai posed.

"Because I care about him. He won't like what we did, but it is in his best interest."

"That's what you should tell him. Surely he'll see that you had good intentions."

"I hope so. I should go. It's going to be a long day. We'll be doing town hall meetings all week. Oh, we're stopping in Woodbridge on Thursday, and I thought maybe I'd make a pit stop for coffee in Stars Hollow."

"You should probably remind me of that in a few hours, you know, after I'm awake. I can't be trusted to remember we even had this conversation."

"Just go upstairs and take a nap in an empty room. And stay away from Michel, you know, just on the off chance that he is a vampire."

"He's probably not. I mean, his hair is pointy, but his teeth are very straight. And white."

"He's nothing if not well groomed."

"I'm going to Google vampire grooming habits, just to be safe."

"I have no doubt you will. Now go take a nap," Rory said as she ended the call.

With no real plan in place as to how to deal with the outcome of her actions, she knew she couldn't put off starting her day any longer. All she could do was work and hope that things turned out for the best. The only thing that was guaranteed was that it was going to be one long day. She was glad that she'd started it in his bed, with his arms wrapped around her.


	16. Plan B

Story Title: No Way Back

Chapter Title: Plan B

Description: Rory Gilmore gets tangled up in the other side of politics, but is she prepared to tangle with all it entails? Not if Tristan Dugrey has anything to say about it.

Rating: M

Rory was up in the front of the election headquarters building, going over the mock-up of the fliers that would be handed out at the town hall meetings. Her attention to detail faltered when Tristan opened the door and paused, catching her eye.

"This looks good," she managed, handing the yellow leaflet back to the intern that hurried off to make copies.

He walked swiftly to her side and pulled her in close. "We need to talk."

She nodded, eyeing him carefully. "I know."

"My office," he instructed.

"Tristan," she began evenly.

"My office," he reiterated sharply.

"Yeah, okay. Whatever you want," she agreed.

His expression was unreadable, but for some reason she got the feeling he found some irony in her sentiments. She did her best to keep up with his long, purposeful strides, but ended up scrambling after him in her heels despite her best efforts to appear calm and collected about the confrontation. She held fast to the notion that she'd done nothing wrong—she'd only acted to protect him. She wouldn't apologize for that.

"I can explain," she said the moment she shut the door behind her.

"I can read just fine," he said, tossing his newspaper on his desk. It'd been refolded to an article that broke the news of the regime change for the State's Attorney hopeful. "Between the lines and otherwise."

"He can help Segielman win," she defended.

"At what cost? Do you think he'll be happy just taking Brockman down and watching Ashley ride that sinking ship when he could easily take me down as well?"

Rory stiffened. "He wouldn't."

"Why the hell wouldn't he? In case you hadn't noticed, we're not close. Add the fact that the guy never met anyone he didn't enjoy seeing raked over the coals and the way you shoved this opportunity in his lap," he seethed. "How long did it take him to jump ship with his own family?"

"There's still something for him to lose," she admitted, her face showing her discomfort at having made a deal of any kind with Robert.

"And just what is that?" he asked warily.

Rory hesitated. "I told him I'd talk to Jack, if his success frees you to run for office after this. He wants to be a part of Jack's national run."

"Why on earth would you make kind of deal with a guy like that?" Tristan erupted.

"To help you!" she shouted back.

"I specifically told you to let me handle it!"

"And how far were you getting by yourself?" she inquired, now irate. "What we did will work, Tristan, if you just let it!"

The door opened at that point, and Tristan flinched. Rory spun to see Jack standing in the doorway. "Rory, can we have a minute?"

Rory's heart was racing, and she could feel her cheeks were flushed from the argument. She wondered just how loud they'd gotten. Feeling more like they'd been caught in the midst of passion than anger, she lowered her gaze. "We were just," she began.

Jack held up a hand to signal her to stop. "Go get ready, we'll be leaving soon. I need to talk to Tristan."

Rory shot Tristan one more glance, but he didn't meet her eyes. She could see the frustration and anger in them, and she didn't want to leave him without at least attempting to work it out. Without another word, she begrudgingly left Tristan's office. She didn't get far, just into the hallway after the door closed, before she leaned back against the wall for support. She hated the way he'd looked at her, as if she'd somehow betrayed him. For all her good intentions, she had begun to wonder if politics was the place for her. She wasn't sure anything was worth putting this kind of wedge between her and Tristan.

"Are you alright?"

Rory opened her eyes and turned to see Judge Dugrey standing a few feet from her in the hallway. "I'll be fine."

"He's not as quick to anger as he used to be, but he still hates to let go of it," Janlan informed her.

"He has every right," she said quietly.

"He's more upset that he has to question your motives in his life than by what you did. His trust has been abused so often in the past, it's hard for him to see good intentions at first glance."

"Is that why you're here? To talk him down?"

Janlan shrugged. "I have a feeling Jack is doing enough of that, or at least putting his head in the right frame of mind for work. I'm here, now that things have been set in motion, to lay the plan out for him. Now that he can't stop our efforts to help him, I'm going to give him full disclosure. He deserves that."

Rory nodded. "I tried. Jack came in."

Janlan paused. "I'm sure you have your own effective method for making Tristan see reason, but as his grandfather, I have the added advantage of making him accept certain things outright, whether he likes it or not. He generally comes around to my way of thinking. He's slowly accepted that we're very similar over the years, I believe."

Rory worried her lip with her teeth. "What would you have done in his position?"

Janlan blew out a long breath. "I sought my father's counsel for any matters that troubled me in my life. Tristan never benefited from his father's wisdom, and the last time he came to me, he was let down in a way I deeply regret. Family dynamics have changed a lot since it was my life's path that hung in the balance of delicate decisions."

Rory nodded, thinking of the trained response Tristan must be in the midst of experiencing. She gave him every reason to doubt her intentions, by going against his wishes, but sitting back and doing nothing seemed a far worse offense in her book.

Jack emerged from Tristan's office and eyed the two in the hall. "You can go in. He's in a more amiable mood," he said to Janlan.

"Jack," Rory stepped up. "Can we talk?"

Jack put a hand on her shoulder. "It's fine. Are you ready to work?"

Rory nodded, but pointed to the door. "But he," she began.

"He's going to come out of that room with his game face on. Whatever remains between the two of you to work out, you can do that on your own time."

Rory took in his words. "Of course. I'll just go get double check the fliers and make sure the interns have everything packed into their car."

Jack patted her back. "Sounds productive. I'm going to go over that speech you wrote, one more time."

Rory glanced at Tristan's door. "Right. Because it's back to work as usual," she said, in effort to convince herself as she went back to preparing for a full day at a campaign stop.

XXXX

Rory sat in the front seat, staring into the side-view mirror at a very sullen and stoic Tristan behind her. Jack sat next to Tristan, the speech in his hands as he made notes with a pen. The driver stared straight ahead into traffic, keeping a steady pace with other cars, and the only words spoken were Jack occasionally trying phrases out loud, in effort to memorize key parts.

"Should it be 'our inalienable rights' or 'your inalienable rights?'" Jack asked openly.

"Our," Rory said as Tristan said, "Your."

Jack raised his eyebrows. "A stalemate. I should have guessed."

"'Our' implies a shared goal and vision. It binds you to the crowd," Rory said, turning to face Jack.

"And 'your' implies that you're speaking to these people about their lives, making it seem like you are focused on them and their wellbeing above your own," Tristan argued his point.

"People need to know you're on their team, not that you're just concerned for them," Rory combatted.

"It's conversational," Tristan shook his head dismissively.

"Except it's a speech, not an interview," Rory said hastily. "And I'm the speech writer, and I said it's 'our', so drop the whole 'your' defense."

"Your call," Tristan said to Jack with a smirk, playing on the word.

"No, actually it's _my_ call," Rory muttered.

"You've been making a lot of those lately without consulting me, I can see where you might be confused as to your role," Tristan bit back.

"I was offering my help when specifically asked for it. Most people appreciate my efforts," she redirected.

"Not everything can be fixed with proper word choice," Tristan said with clipped tone.

"I like our," Jack said over their exchange. "I think that whole shared experience feel is what we're going for."

"What's so wrong with helping people you want to see succeed?" Rory posed, irritated at Tristan's comment.

"Not a thing," Jack answered with his eyes still on the pages, knowing full well she wasn't talking to him.

"Is that what you're doing? Trying to make everyone successful by your standards?" Tristan posed.

"Sometimes I'm not sure why I even bother," Rory said, turning her attention back out the passenger-side window.

"It is important to know when to stop," Tristan said. "Don't you think, Jack?"

"I was taught to never say die," Jack said sharply, finally lifting his eyes from the pages to address them both. "And as my top staffers, I'd hope you both share that particular notion. Or at least pretend to agree on something for the sake of the campaign."

Rory remained silent, the reminder that this wasn't the place for them to clear the air—or in their case to fill it with loaded, passive-aggressive chatter. Jack had enough on his mind, preparing for his speech to the public that afternoon, without having to worry about things blowing up between them offstage. He was their candidate, not their babysitter.

The spent the rest of the tension-filled car ride in silence, or at least in avoidance of speaking directly to one another. Rory answered Jack's direct questions and Tristan clarified a few points, but they stayed out of one another's answers. Tristan whisked Jack off the moment the car stopped, and Rory went to meet with the sound crew. Once the sound check had gone through, she went back and instructed the interns on where to set up. She approached Jack in the holding area.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

He nodded. "I think the crowd's going to be pretty friendly. All the local fodder's turned to the State's Attorney race, but I need you to keep your ears open for any backlash that McKerney or Brockman tries to send our way."

Rory crossed her arms. "Tristan mentioned that Robert might use his position to nail him as well as Brockman."

Jack cleared his throat. "That would be unwise on his part."

"He wants a spot on your campaign, if Segielman loses."

Jack smiled ruefully. "The old favor system."

Rory nodded. "I didn't promise him anything. But I don't particularly trust him either."

"He won't do anything against Tristan without being certain of our allegiances in regard to him," Jack advised.

"I don't see how anyone ever gets anywhere in politics. It's supposed to be about more than doing favors and greasing palms," she vented.

Jack put his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eyes. "Which is why Tristan needs to have the green light to run, and I need more people like you on my team. Sometimes you have to go along with people you don't like for the greater good."

She nodded halfheartedly. "I'll talk to Robert."

Jack nodded. "Let us know if you need help with Robert. And no matter what Tristan says to you later, do your best to keep the two of them apart."

"That was a given," she agreed.

He squeezed her shoulder and turned to await his announcement. Tristan came up and handed him a small piece of paper.

"What's that?" Rory asked, trying to eye the document.

"I'm sorry, do you not enjoy being out of the loop?" Tristan asked, turning to her.

Jack sped through the note. "Take care of it tonight."

"That was my plan," Tristan answered. Jack's name was announced and the crowd immediately erupted into applause in welcome as he stepped out in front of the audience and toward the podium.

"What are you taking care of tonight?" Rory asked, leaning in so he could hear her over the crowd.

He kept his eyes on Jack. "Nothing you need to worry about. Besides, I'm sure you'll be briefed on my business later on."

"Don't you care that we all just want to help you?" she asked, tired of the digs he was tossing her way.

He turned to face her. "I told you to stay out of it."

"And I told you it was my decision whether or not I wanted to get involved," she volleyed back.

"It's my life!"

She hung back, stung by the implication. "And you just don't want me involved with your life?"

His frustration was cut only by a regret at how his words had come out. "That's not what I said."

"It's what you implied," she said, hurt coursing through her. "You can't pick and choose what parts of your life to include me in, not anymore. I'm not interested in just being around for your amusement."

"I never said that's what I wanted," he said, now taking a step closer to her.

"You've never said what you wanted," she informed him in accusing tone. "You've made it very clear that you were hesitant to get involved with me and your reaction to my attempt to act on your behalf is more than enough to show me that you don't want me involved in your life."

"Are you done putting words in my mouth?"

"If you have something to say for yourself, then say it. What is it I've gotten wrong?" she pressed.

He stared at her with longing, but his attention was snagged by the crowd's response to Jack. "I don't want to do this here."

"This is where we are. Jack knows about us, and if we put us off for work, then we're never going to resolve this. That sounds like a decision to me."

He steeled himself. "If that's the only alternative you're going to give me," he began.

"That's what I thought. Do whatever it is you have to do tonight. Just tell Jack that I'll see him in Woodbridge tomorrow. I have some business of my own to take care of," she said and left the town hall meeting alone.

XXXX

"Having second thoughts already?"

Rory grimaced as she held her cell phone behind the wheel of her parked car. It had been a long bus ride back to Hartford. It almost made her nostalgic for the days that her main mode of transportation had been the Connecticut Transit System, except she hadn't had a book with her and she'd had to rely on her thoughts to pass the time. She would have much rather escaped into any other world than her own. "More like concerns. Where are you?"

"I'm just about to meet a friend for a drink. You're welcome to join us," Robert said graciously.

"No, I just wanted to touch base with you and see," she hesitated again.

"If I can pull this off?"

"I guess. I don't know. I shouldn't even be calling you. My part was just to introduce you to the idea of working with Segielman. The rest is out of my hands."

"That guy makes Dudley-Do-Right look like a second-class citizen. I'm fairly sure he's disgusted by my existence, but so far his only restriction on my methods is that I am only to use facts that can be corroborated and that I'm in no way to perjure him. He didn't seem to mind if I ended up in jail, though."

"You do make quite a first impression," Rory sighed.

"So why were you calling again?" Robert inquired.

"I was just checking in."

"Feel free to do that whenever you wish. I enjoy being pursued," he said before he hung up.

Rory sat back in the driver's seat and thought for a moment. She'd intended to go meet Robert, to get some kind of assurance that he would steer clear of going after Tristan in the process of taking out Brockman, but she wasn't sure that Robert would ever be able to convince her that he'd leave Tristan alone. Her only proof would come with time and results. She wondered if she should take her own advice and leave Tristan alone. She grabbed the door handle and got back out of her car without starting the engine. She made her way back up to her apartment and did her best to avoid thinking about Tristan or either campaign. She grabbed a book and ran a bubble bath and did her best to fall off the grid for a little while.

She heard the knock as she was toweling off her hair. She had just slipped into some clothes and was getting ready to retire to bed early, and her heart leapt at the knock. She hoped that this meant he was coming to tell her that he wanted her in his life.

Anticipation filled her as she unlocked the door and opened it, but it was not the blonde man she had expected on her doorstep. It was another blonde man altogether, familiar none-the-less.

"Logan?"

He gave her a knowing smile. "Hey, Ace."

She crossed her arms easily over her chest. She felt relief drain from her body and something else take its place. Disappointment? Confusion? She wasn't sure. "I'm not a reporter anymore."

He nodded. "I heard. But knowing you, it's still in you. It's hard to lose talent like yours."

"How did you find me here?" she asked, unsure what to do with the compliment. It felt like there should be some sort of bridge to gap the life he was referring to and where she was now, but instead it felt more like she'd been sucked through some sort of wormhole.

"Ah, a very displeased Lorelai Gilmore gave you up. She called me 'you,' as in she opened the door and said, 'Oh. It's you. What are _you_ doing here?'" he cringed.

"You're a touchy subject in our family. Emily and Richard never understood why I turned you down. I'm sure they would have adopted you and got rid of me, but you took off to California, so we just try to avoid the topic of you like the plague. Mom didn't really understand it either, but she was relieved until she found out that we'd been in contact here recently."

"That explains why Lorelai was so happy to see me. Maybe I should have called on Emily?" he asked.

"That would have been cruel. It would have gotten their hopes up, and that's not worked out well for them in the past, mostly with my mother."

He nodded. "Right. With your dad."

She scrunched up her shoulders. "Can we skip all the shared history? Why don't you just tell me what you're doing here? I have a long day tomorrow."

"Can I come in, or are you not alone?" he asked somberly.

She took a step back. "Come on in. It's just me here."

He entered her apartment. "I was in Hartford, and I knew you'd moved up here for Kent's campaign. So I thought I'd stop by."

"You just happened to be in Hartford?" she asked in disbelief. Maybe it was its distal proximity to California, or perhaps her time in politics was just making her more disbelieving. Either way, it sounded unlikely.

"Robert called me," he admitted sheepishly.

"What? Why?"

Logan shook his head. "Why does Robert do anything? He couldn't not see you and let an opportunity to stroll down memory lane with me pass him by. He's an ass, and he wanted to see if he could get any pain and suffering out of me. I agreed to meet him for a drink, and he told me that my old man has dumped a bunch of money into his competition's campaign fund and how would I like to make a generous donation to his new boss to best Mitchum? He threw in some commentary on how sexy you were when you were brokering for deals to get me to bite."

She stiffened. "Unbelievable."

"Oh, now, I'm sure you're very sexy when you're bartering. Anytime you got determined, I certainly never stood a chance of deterring you, mainly because it was such a turn-on."

His smile was so easy and warm. She remembered how cold and hurt Tristan's face was when she left the town hall meeting. She could feel hot tears burning her eyes. She blinked back the urge. "This is all such a mess."

Logan reached out a hand to her shoulder. His hand gripped her gently, in support. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head. "Everything. I never should have involved Robert. Tristan is never going to forgive me, even if Robert manages to pull this off. And to involve you?" she sighed.

"Robert filled me in on the particulars," Logan said evenly. "He said it was to make sure I was a fully informed contributor, but I think he just wanted to see my reaction to the idea that you were with someone else."

She stared up at him, her face repentant. "What happened with Tristan, I mean, I know he talked to you, but nothing was going on while you and I were," she gestured between them.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. Slow down."

"It's not okay! Tristan is furious with me for involving Robert to clear the way for him to go after his dream, and," she shook her head, tears still threatening. "Wait. Did you give him money?"

Logan shook his head. "I trust Robert about as far as I could throw him. I came to you to check out the facts from the revenge fantasies that Robert entertains himself with when reality becomes too mundane for his tastes."

She smiled despite herself and the situation. "It's weirdly good to see you."

He smiled. "It's always good to see you."

"Tristan hates me."

"No he doesn't. But on the off chance he does, then he's an idiot," he said honestly.

"No, he's not. He should hate me. I screwed this all up by going behind his back. It was going well, or at least, I thought it was going well. I started thinking about my future and what it looked like with him in it. I thought maybe I was ready to take that next step in my life, even though it all still scares me."

Logan tensed. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry. You don't want to hear this," she backpedaled.

"I came to see you and get the truth, no matter what you had to say," he assured her. "But if he's not interested, are you still in a place where you want to pursue something more in your life?"

She closed her eyes. "Logan, I," she shook her head.

"Because I miss you."

She opened her eyes. "Please don't do this. I'm a mess, and you're being supportive, but I'm not the same person that I was when we were together."

"Good, because that girl didn't want to get married."

"Is that what you want? To get married?"

"I wanted to be with you, in whatever form that could take. If I thought that's what you wanted, then I would be more than happy to accomplish that in any way you saw fit."

She bit her lip. "I think I love him."

"You think?" he pushed.

"It's just him, Logan. He's what I see when I picture the future. I can't see exactly what I'm doing as a career anymore when I look forward, but I can see him. I don't know what changed, or when I became a different person, but I've never felt like this before. And he may never speak to me again, outside of the office, where he's paid to."

Logan took a step back from her and nodded. "You should tell him."

She frowned. "It's too soon and the situation isn't right."

"But you love him," Logan said slowly. "So forget all the other stuff and just tell him. It will go farther than any other logic you attempt to use to explain to him why you did what you did—involving Robert and going to bat for him against his wishes."

"Robert really told you all the dirt, didn't he?"

Logan nodded. "And I listened, mostly because I was worried about what you might have gotten yourself into. But obviously you can handle it. Do you want me to make a contribution?"

She shook her head. "Only if you're feeling the need to have Robert owe you a favor. Apparently having the upper hand is very big in politics," she explained.

"Forget about politics. Robert's psychotic. Are you going to be okay?"

She nodded. "We're going to be in Woodbridge tomorrow, so I'm going to stop by home and see my mom on the way. We have a week of these meetings and then another debate. Somewhere in the middle of all that, I'll try to find some time to talk to Tristan."

"Make him listen, no matter where you are. And if he doesn't feel the same way," he smiled wistfully. "You know you can find me."

"Thank you. For coming and checking with me," she clarified.

He nodded. "When he called me, as you were taking this job, the way he talked about you," he began.

"Yeah?" she asked with interest.

"The guy's in love with you. So he might be pissed, and he might have a reason to be, but if there's a way to make someone fall out of love with you," he sighed. "I'll let you know when I find it."

"Maybe I should hire Robert to help you."

He laughed. "Maybe," he agreed.

"I should get some sleep," she said.

He leaned in and kissed her cheek. They stood there like that for a moment longer than necessary, but she didn't pull away first. "Take care of yourself, okay?" he said softly.

She nodded. "I will. You too."

He smiled as he pulled back and grabbed her door handle. "You'd hate California anyway."

She smiled as he walked out of her front door and left her alone yet again in her apartment. She glanced at the clock and decided to make a change in plans. Within a few minutes, she had a bag packed and headed back down to her car. She drove with determination to her destination and grabbed her bag as she exited the car and hurried up to the door. She only had to wait a second after knocking before the door was opened to her.

"I thought you'd never get here!" Lorelai exclaimed.

Rory frowned. "How did you know I was coming?"

"Well, after the line at my door all evening, I could only imagine you'd show up at some point."

"The line at your door? Who's been here?"

"All your many suitors," Lorelai supplied.

Rory paused a beat. "What?"

"First Logan, then Tristan."

Rory froze. "Tristan was here?"

"And here I thought Logan would have stumped you more."

"Logan came to see me. Tristan isn't speaking to me, at least not in a very productive way."

"I figured Logan was on his way to you. Did he try to move in on you while you were all upset and vulnerable?" Lorelai demanded.

"No. I mean, a little, but that doesn't matter. Why was Tristan here?"

"Looking for you. Apparently you weren't home when he stopped by."

"I had to take the bus from Ridgefield, which took forever. Then I sat in my car for a while. Then I took a bubble bath."

"To get the bus smell off of you," Lorelai reasoned.

"What did he say?"

"Let's start with why Logan is back sniffing around. Can he sense romantic tension and think this was his shot?"

Rory rolled her eyes. "He was checking on me, that's all. He did nothing untoward."

"So he doesn't want you back?" Lorelai asked.

"I think he was experiencing some nostalgia. But it doesn't matter. What did Tristan say?"

"He said that he thought you might have come here since you weren't at your apartment. Apparently he's figured out your hiding spot."

"I don't come here to hide," Rory defended. "I come for solitude and solidarity."

"That's a fancy way of saying you're hiding," Lorelai corrected.

"Fine. What else did he say?"

"He was all set to leave when he realized I wasn't just hiding you in the back to divert him."

"And you let him?"

"No. I lured him in with coffee. Which he drank like an addict. I think you're rubbing off on him."

Rory barely suppressed the smile. "He's probably running on fumes at this point. It's been a stressful few days."

"He wasn't heavy on details, but he did infer that the two of you had a misunderstanding."

"Really? He called it a misunderstanding?" Rory asked in disbelief.

"I think he was hoping it was, at any rate. He wasn't doing okay, Hon. Unless he's usually that sullen and broody."

"He has his moments," Rory considered. "He's intense, most of the time, no matter his state of mind."

"I hope you're staying the night, because it sounds like we have some major catching up to do," Lorelai said, taking her daughter's bag and walking into the house. "Grab the phone and order a pizza."

"I'm not very hungry," Rory admitted, which caused her mother to turn suddenly to face her.

"Okay, that's it. On the couch, now," she ordered.

Rory sat on the couch and pulled her legs up underneath her. "Tristan's dad set up his ex-wife with the guy that is likely to win the State's Attorney race, so his grandfather and a few other people decided to give aid in the way of advice and counsel to his opponent, though it was more for Tristan's benefit than the guy currently in the race. Tristan wouldn't tell me what was going on, to keep me out of the crossfire that might come along with whatever might come out about him thanks to his father's meddling. But his grandfather and Jack pulled me in and briefed me, and I agreed to introduce the underdog to a guy we went to Yale with, that Tristan hates, to help him win the race."

Lorelai frowned. "Why is that so bad?"

Rory let out a breath. "The guy doesn't like Tristan much either, and there's a small possibility that in taking down Brockman, he'll make a big deal out of Tristan's past with Brockman's fiancé, and instead of clearing the way for Tristan to run with all this scandal behind him, that he'll end up just making it an ill-conceived notion."

"So if this Brockman guy wins and this guy doesn't bring Tristan down, what happens then?"

"Then Tristan can run, but most likely he'll be made out as a villain for what went down between him and his ex, even though she was awful. No, awful doesn't begin to cover it. She was a complete nightmare, and I honestly couldn't blame him for never trusting a woman again."

"He trusts you," Lorelai said.

Rory shrugged. "He did. Now I'm not so sure. I didn't handle this like he wanted me to, at all. But it's his best option, even if he hates it."

"So, he wants to run?"

Rory threw her hands up in the air. "I don't know! He should, he'd be great, but he won't tell me what he's thinking about the future, he just keeps telling me to focus on what I want."

"I bet Logan was more forthcoming in that department," Lorelai said with disdain.

Rory nodded. "He was. But I told him that I…," she cut off.

"That you what?" Lorelai asked, completely intent on the conversation.

Rory met her mother's eyes, showing her misery. "I love Tristan."

Lorelai smiled. "I think he'll be exceptionally happy to hear that."

"He won't even look at me," she sniffed.

"But he's since come looking for you. Call him."

"And tell him I love him over the phone? No, I have to do that in person. We have to talk this through. I've been so busy trying to figure out what I want, but it wasn't until Logan pressed me that I realized that it doesn't matter. I can work for Jack, or something else will come along, but it'll sort itself out. I don't want an alternative to being with Tristan."

Lorelai smiled. "I think you have your Plan B."

Rory bit her lip. "It's sort of terrifying."

"Oh, yeah. Most good plans are. You should hear the story of the first day Luke opened his diner. And you know about all the issues I had when the Inn was opening. I walked into a door that wasn't attached to anything."

"I think Luke had something to do with that," Rory remembered.

"Life has a tendency to dump it on you all at once. If I made it through, you will too. I promise."

"I can't wait until tomorrow. I have to talk to him tonight. Tomorrow we'll be busy at work, and Jack is being understanding enough about us as it is. He deserves our focus, especially now."

"You're going back to Hartford, now?"

Rory stood up and grabbed her bag. "I'll still see you tomorrow for coffee before the Town Hall Meeting in Woodbridge, I promise."

"You better! I deserve to be the first to hear that it's worked out, after entertaining your men all evening!" she called as she walked toward the door.

"I doubt you were very accommodating to Logan. I think you scared him a little."

"I can teach you my ways. He's clearly not very afraid of you," Lorelai pointed out.

"He would be if I wanted him to be. Logan means well. He really was looking out for me. And it was nice, to get a little closure. It's been a long time coming."

"Good. Now that it's all behind you, you can focus on Plan B."

"I'm on my way," she said, giving her mother a quick hug in the doorway before hurrying off to her car, for yet another trip back to Hartford. It was almost starting to feel like her way home, though it wasn't her apartment she was headed to.

XXXX

She sat in her car, in the driveway of Tristan's unoccupied home. She'd checked his apartment, the office, her apartment, and now his house. There was only one other place she could think of to go, and it gave her pause. It wasn't far away, her subconscious reminded gently, so she decided to exhaust all options before heading back to her apartment to get a few hours of poor sleep for the night.

She pulled onto the street she was looking for and drove slowly in the dark, looking for the turn she wanted. At last, she found the house and turned in, pulling her car in the otherwise empty drive. She got out of her car and walked up to the front door, but shook her head and turned to walk away before she initiated contact with the door. The hour was too late to disrupt anyone else just to get a lead on his whereabouts. This could wait until morning, when she'd have an opportunity to see him before they took off for the event in Woodbridge. She heard the front door open.

"Rory?"

She cringed and did her best to recover before she turned back. "I'm sorry, Judge Dugrey. I didn't mean to disrupt you."

"Please come in."

She hesitated, but gave in quickly, nodding as she entered his home. "I was looking for Tristan. Apparently we keep missing each other."

"He was here much earlier," he admitted. "Though I don't know if I should expect him back or not. He's likely to need some time to himself."

"Does this have to do with work?"

Janlan shook his head. "He went to see his father."

Rory's eyes widened. "He did?"

"He was quite upset about the argument the two of you had. I think he was partially going to vent some steam in what he felt was a deserved place."

"Won't that just make his father more vengeful?"

Janlan sighed. "Tristan's never really laid it out with his father. He's testified against him, but he's kept most of his emotions bottled up. The experience might do them both some good."

"Why now, then? Because he resurrected Ashley into the picture?" she asked knowingly.

Janlan gave her an easy smile. "I think it was more the fact that it's come between the two of you that added to his sudden need for confrontation."

"I need to talk to him. He wouldn't listen to me earlier; I tried, but we kept getting cut off, and," she explained rapidly.

"He dealt with this once, and he convinced himself that he wouldn't have to again if he kept his sights at a certain level. He didn't count on you coming into his life."

"I know he thinks he has to protect me from all of this, but he doesn't."

"It's not just that. You made him realize that he wants more, from his career and his life. That maybe he can have more, after everything else he's gone through. Hang in with him; he's almost come to terms with it. Going and talking to his father tonight will do him good. All he needs now from you is a little more patience."

Rory nodded. "I'll try to give him whatever he needs."

He smiled warmly. "I believe that."

"I should go. It's late."

He walked her to the front door. "If he won't listen to you, I'd be more than happy to straighten him out. That's a standing offer," he confided.

She smiled at him. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

He simply nodded his acceptance, and she headed back for one final stop at her apartment. She found two things there that she had not expected. The first was an eviction notice in her mailbox, which she was reading with distress as she arrived at her front door. Leaning next to said door, waiting for her eventual return, was Tristan.

"Tristan," she said, coming to an abrupt halt.

"I need to talk to you," he said wearily.

"You've made the rounds tonight," she pointed out.

He nodded. "You were hard to find."

"Not for everyone," she blew out a breath and unlocked her door, which according to the notice she'd received, would be someone else's front door in thirty days. No time to move like two weeks before the pinnacle of the election, she mused inwardly.

"Someone came to see you? Was it Robert?" he pressed.

She tossed her mail on her table, as usual, hoping some of it would get lost in the void. "No. I called him, but evidently he felt it necessary to involve Logan, and he got worried about my association with Robert and came to check on me."

"How caring of him," he said with gritted teeth.

"Actually, it was," she defended.

His hard eyes looked away. "Guess you have no shortage of offers these days, do you?"

"I don't want other offers. I was actually pretty happy with how things were going, until things with you got strained and I got evicted."

"What do you mean, you got evicted?" he asked, his anger and confusion mixing. "And what did Huntzberger want, to give you a place to stay?"

"You know what, if you're going to act this way, you can leave."

"We need to talk," he impressed upon her.

"Yes, you're right, we do need to talk. But we can't do that if you aren't willing to listen to me. I didn't invite Logan over here, and I didn't let him stay."

He ran a hand through his hair. "And now here I am, following in his footsteps," he muttered.

"Tristan, no, that's not what I meant," she said, instantly sorry she'd left room for that assumption.

"Why did you come over last night, and not tell me?" he asked outright.

"I knew when you found out, no matter how it happened, you would have doubts about why I did what I did. Last night, I just wanted a chance to be with you, without you having doubts about us. I wanted to be free of all the rest of it, just for a while, for it to be just you and me before things got even more complicated."

He considered her words. "And so that's where we are now."

She nodded. "I can't apologize for what I did. I didn't like keeping it from you, but I knew you wouldn't have let me do it if you'd known."

He gave her a pleading look. "What does that tell you?"

"You said I had to make the decision about what was most important to me. You can't blame me if you don't like my choice."

"Just what are you choosing here? Career suicide?"

"No," she said crossly, "I am choosing you."

With that revelation, he'd heard all he needed for the moment, and he closed the gap between them and pulled her against him swiftly, kissing her like a year had passed instead of a day since they'd gotten the opportunity to touch. By the time they sank down onto her couch, they were done talking. After spending most of the evening in search of the other, neither of them was going anywhere.


	17. For Your Consideration

Story Title: No Way Back

Chapter Title: For Your Consideration

Description: Rory Gilmore gets tangled up in the other side of politics, but is she prepared to tangle with all it entails? Not if Tristan Dugrey has anything to say about it.

Rating: M

AN: Hello all! Things are cranking out slower—it's my kid's b-day as well as the holiday season, so we have out-of-towners coming in and all these festivities and prep. This equals less writing time. But it does give me more planning time, which in turn makes for more chapters later. It's all good. As a reward for all of us, this is HUGE on Trory interaction. We all deserve it, it's the holidays after all.

Rory awoke to fingers gently stroking her hair. Exhaustion lingered in her body, as she couldn't remember the last time she'd gotten a full night's sleep. The added stress of long work days and worry over the situation with Tristan hadn't helped her rest any easier when she did manage to sleep more than a few hours at a time. Before she even opened her weary eyes, she could feel his body underneath her and the back of the couch at her side. The feel of his body molded to hers aided in her waking up. He must have pulled the blanket off the back of the couch to sling over them after she'd fallen asleep, as the soft fabric was covering her backside. She was pretty sure that the way his arm was wrapped around her waist was the only reason she hadn't rolled off the couch during their extended nap.

She yawned and nuzzled her cheek against his chest. She knew he was awake and that they couldn't stay wrapped around each other under a blanket all day, as appealing as the idea was. She could imagine a day off with him, but wasn't sure when they'd ever get the opportunity without planning it way in advance. Today was definitely not that day.

She slid her arm up onto his chest and leaned her chin on it. "Morning."

He leaned up to kiss her forehead. "Morning."

"So, weren't we supposed to talk?" she asked sheepishly.

His eyes lit up. "I got distracted."

She blushed. "I'll say."

"I'm feeling more focused now," he assured her.

"Are you sure about that? We're naked and there's no coffee."

"Both are easily remedied," he pointed out.

She pushed down gently on his chest. "I like it here."

He smiled. "Fine. What's it going to take to get you to call Robert off?"

She blinked at him. "I've got Robert under control. I think."

"If you want me to believe you, you're going to have to be sure of it yourself," he instructed.

"Do you want a chance to run?" she asked directly.

He looked into her eyes and sighed. "Yes."

Something in her chest swelled. She'd guessed as much, but hearing him say it gave her a whole other perspective. "Okay then. Robert is going to help that cause."

He shook his head. She put a hand to his cheek. "Hey, do you trust me?"

He refocused on her. "You? Yes. Him, no."

She smiled. "Fair enough. I'll keep Robert in line. And if I can't do it, then Boyd or your grandfather will. They're intent on giving you this shot."

"If Robert gives you any trouble, I will handle him," he insisted, his eyes a determined cool blue.

She shook her head. "The stipulation is you stay out of this. That means the less contact you have with Robert, or either of the candidates during the next six weeks, the better."

"They told you everything?" he asked.

She nodded. "They did. They're all on your side. Especially me."

"Well, that's good, because my father is likely to keep the heat on me as much as he can. I declined his offer to make this all go away for a good word at his parole hearing. Jail hasn't really agreed with him."

"So you're okay with me helping you now?" she asked.

He set his mouth in a line. "Ideally, I don't want you having to limit your options because of me. But none of this is ideal and you seem to have made up your mind anyway, so if you insist on being a part of this, just promise me we won't hide anything else from each other."

She nodded and stretched up to kiss him. "I promise."

"Now's the part where you explain why you're being evicted," he informed her firmly.

"Oh. That. _I_ got distracted."

"What?"

She sighed. "I was going to extend the month-to-month lease to a year, since I needed to renew anyhow, but I missed the deadline because I was busy with all this other stuff, and management leased my place already before I could get it in."

He frowned. "So now not only have you potentially ruined your career for me, but I'm also the reason you're homeless?"

She felt something tighten in her chest. "First of all, my career is hardly ruined. I know you're thinking of all the worst-case scenarios that could play out, but I don't think Jack's going to rescind his offer, especially since I'm helping the same cause he is. Secondly, I'm not homeless. I just have to move at a really inopportune time."

"I'm sure your grandmother would love to show you some houses," he said with an evil grin.

She smacked at his chest. "I'm not telling Emily anything. She'd insist on paying the down payment on some huge house and I'd be indebted for Sunday brunch from now until I can pay her back, which given her tastes would be never."

"I'm sure there are much less involved solutions to this problem."

"I'll find a place. It's not a big deal," she assured him.

"Is there another unit in this building? It's a shame you can't stay here, if that's where you wanted to be."

She bit her lip. Losing the apartment had been the least of her worries. "No, I'm pretty sure this was the last available unit. I'll just have to figure it out."

"Let me know if you need help finding a place," he said, brushing her hair back off her shoulder.

"Maybe you should look at any prospects I find. If you'll be spending time there, you should like it too."

He kissed her again. "Rory," he began, but stopped at the sound of someone knocking at her door. "Expecting someone?"

"I'm usually not," she sighed, rolling to the side as he got up from under her. She pulled the blanket to cover her as he grabbed his pants and pulled them up. His shirt was pulled onto his arms but not buttoned as he opened the door.

"Why are you here?" he demanded instead of greeting the visitor.

Robert poked his head into the apartment. "I feel overdressed."

"How did you know where Rory lived?" Tristan asked, his tone still insistent.

"Relax, I'm not here for anything other than business. Though, that's how you two started, isn't it? Working long, intimate hours together?"

"What do you need, Robert?" Rory asked in an irritated fashion.

"Everyone's so on edge. She did explain by now that I'm helping you, right?"

"I'll believe it when I see it," Tristan said.

"Enough," Rory admonished. "Do you need something or are you just here to be an ass?"

He cleared his throat. "I need to get in to see your dad," he said, regarding Tristan.

Tristan's face went expressionless. "No."

Robert threw his hands out and they landed at his sides. "How long will it take you to change his mind? I'm on a schedule here. Less than six weeks left, every second counts. Unless you want to end up going against Brockman yourself. Have you seen Ashley, by the way? She's had some work done, but it's tasteful."

"That's it, you're fired," Tristan announced.

Robert clicked his tongue. "That's not quite how this works. I'm sure you're not used to other people calling the shots, but I'm doing you a favor. Be sure to remember that you owe me when you're getting ready to start up your own camp."

"I owe you nothing. I didn't orchestrate this whole deal," he said, glowering at Robert.

"Maybe not, but I bet you care that she owes me," Robert smirked as he pointed to Rory. "It's up to her whether or not she gets dressed before she repays me."

Tristan took a hostile step toward Robert, but Robert just sidestepped him and cocked his head toward Rory. "Seriously, can't you control him?"

"Maybe I don't want to yet. Why do you need to talk to his father?"

Robert shrugged. "Figured it couldn't hurt. I have it on good authority that he's been very interested in the State's Attorney race, and it struck me as curious that he would be such good friends with Brockman. It's just one of the many questions I have for him."

"Can you get him on the list?" Rory asked Tristan.

"Yeah, can you get me on the list?" Robert mimicked her tone.

"What's your game? You can't help him, so he's not going to tell you anything," Tristan turned back to Robert.

"I have my own skills. You think I'm new to all this?" Robert scoffed.

"He thinks you're devious, which is why he's asking for details," Rory explained. "And as the member of this little conference who needs to put some clothes on, I'd appreciate your expedient cooperation."

"The naked body is nothing to be ashamed of. I'd imagine yours is quite a lovely example of the female form."

"I'm not ashamed. I am a little cold, though," she admitted begrudgingly, which caused both men to smile knowingly at her. She pulled the blanket more tightly around her. "Can we please get back to the jail visit debate?"

"I'm not putting you on the list," Tristan shook his head.

"This is a courtesy, coming to you. I can get in by other avenues, but I figured I'd play nice and ask to go through you. I also figured you'd be here, since you two are quite the political power duo. Though, have you decided which one of you is leaving Jack's team after the election? I assume it's you, but if Brockman wins, who takes the bullet? Normally I'd guess the woman, but Gilmore is rather tenacious."

"What are you talking about?" Rory demanded.

Robert smiled. "He knows. Put me on the list. I promise I just want to feel the guy out. You know as well as I do that he's at the bottom of this. He's the fastest route to finding the key to winning this thing—and it's always been my motto to work smarter than the other guy, not harder."

"I believe the part about you not working hard," Tristan muttered.

"You have to admit I'm smart," Robert egged him on.

"Most psychopaths are unusually bright," Tristan agreed.

"I would just like to interject to remind you that working together would be in both of your best interests," Rory said pointedly, mostly at Tristan.

He let out a disgruntled sigh. "You just want to talk to him? I can vouch for the fact that he's not the easiest guy to talk to. Though he'd probably like you."

"Ah-ah-ah," Rory said as she shook her head at him.

"Just agree so your girlfriend can get warm. The manner in which she achieves an increased body temperature is between the two of you," Robert coaxed.

"I'll put you on the list. If he won't talk, then you're out of luck. You make no deals with my father. Are we understood?"

Robert cocked his head. "You want me to sign something to that fact?"

"It would make me feel better," Tristan said, not missing a beat.

"Maybe next time we'll have time to make things more official."

"I'll make a call today," Tristan said with regret.

"Great. That's settled, now you leave," Rory gestured to Robert.

"You aren't going to get up and see me to the door?" he asked, feigning hurt. "I forgot you weren't raised in society, but even still it's very bad manners."

"Get. Out," Tristan said, opening the door for him.

"Don't hold the fact she come to me against her," Robert said to Tristan. "It's been my experience that women are only motivated to such measures as taking up with the likes of me for two reasons. And she is not interested in money."

"You need to leave now, and don't come back," Tristan repeated. Once Robert was out of the apartment, Tristan picked up her shirt and tossed it to her.

"Wherever you move to, let's make sure it has much better security. I don't feel like you're safe enough if a guy like him can make it to your front door."

"You're the one that opened it without looking out the peephole," she admonished.

"So you wouldn't have let him in?"

"I would have, but I would have looked first. If it would have been a guy with a gun or a crowbar or something, I'd have at least asked for some sort of ID."

"You're very funny," he said, moving so sit next to her as she slipped her shirt over her head.

"He can't make a deal with your dad. He doesn't have that kind of pull, does he?"

Tristan shrugged. "That's what I'm going to go find out," he said.

"He was just messing with us, when he asked which one of us would quit, right?" she posed.

He nodded absently. "You don't need to worry about that."

"Jack's okay with us being together. He's been nothing but supportive," she impressed, mostly for her own peace of mind.

He picked up her hand and kissed it. "We're fine. I need to go check into a few things. Jack said you were taking your own car to Woodbridge?"

"I'm stopping in Stars Hollow first, since it's so close. I don't have to tell you, since you were just there," she probed.

"I like your mom. She's like you, but with a much more open sense of humor."

Her mouth dropped open. "Did you just imply that I'm somehow uptight?"

He attempted to frown, but failed as his lips upturned at the edges. "I would never use that word."

"What word would you use to describe me, then?" she cornered him into the conversation.

He put his hand to his chin and extended his finger over his lips to convey his consideration. "Just one?"

She waited with an amused grin. "Do you need a dictionary?"

"No, but I'm sure you have a really heavy one."

"Taking your time isn't really appreciated in this endeavor," she pouted for effect.

He took one hand and parted her blanket. "The most obvious that springs to mind is sexy," he admitted, making her blush slightly in appreciation.

"I thought you had something to go take care of," she reminded playfully.

"But you're cold. I'd hate to leave you without making sure you were warm first," he said as he slid his arms underneath the blanket and against her skin.

"I do warm up quickly when you're around," she said encouragingly.

"Do you warm up when I do this?" he asked as his lips grazed hers.

"A little," she teased as she curled against him.

"Still cold?" he surmised. His nose brushed against her cheek as she slipped his open shirt back off his body.

"I'm getting warmer," she said with a smile as he eased over her on the couch.

"How about when I do this?" he asked again, sinking down against her and dipping his head down to her chest. She squirmed underneath him as heat shot up from deep inside of her.

"Oh, yeah," she managed with a gasping breath. "Now I'm getting hot."

"You're about to get a whole lot hotter," he assured her as he continued to raise her temperature.

XXXX

Lorelai glanced sidelong at her daughter. Rory took a sip of coffee and typed a few words on her cell phone with a smile never fading from her face.

"You're sexting in front of me, aren't you?" Lorelai demanded.

"Take it outside," Luke groaned from his post at the coffee machine in front of them.

"I'm not talking on my cell. I'm texting, and I'm not disrupting any of your other customers," Rory defended.

"You're disrupting my lunch with all your sexting and smiling," Lorelai pointed out.

"You haven't been served yet, and I'm not sexting. I'm sending a message to Tristan to let him know I'm here and I will be at the venue on time. It's work correspondence."

"Let me see," Lorelai said, swiping the phone. "How do I… oh, there we go," she said as she started texting a reply to Tristan.

"Hey, stop that! What are you writing?" Rory reached unsuccessfully for her phone.

"Outside. I know you see the sign," Luke said, pointing above him on the wall.

"No offense, Grandpa, but cell phones haven't looked like that since the 90s. You might as well have a rotary dial up there with a big slash through it," Lorelai quipped in response.

"If you won't comply with my rules, I can exercise my right to refuse service to anyone for any reason," Luke pointed out.

"But you already served us," Rory said, holding up her coffee.

"No, I already served you," he said, indicating that Lorelai was still waiting for a fresh pot of coffee to finish brewing.

"You wouldn't," Lorelai narrowed her gaze at him.

"Try me," Luke crossed his arms at her.

"She's the one on the phone," Lorelai pointed out.

"But, as usual, you're the disruptive one holding the phone," Luke countered.

"Are you two fighting?" Rory inquired.

"It's about the mailbox," Kirk said from the end of the counter.

Rory turned to her mother. "There's mailbox drama?"

"This is not about the mailbox. This is about blatantly ignoring a long-standing diner rule, time and time again," Luke gruffed.

"I've seen you on your cell in here before," Lorelai argued. "It's not like it prohibits you from serving food to customers."

"I only answer in emergencies or to check voicemail, in my own establishment. No one wants to hear about other people's surgeries and the other inappropriate details that people bark into their phones while they're trying to eat!" Luke shot back.

"Hey if it weren't for eavesdropping on cell phone conversations in restaurants and other public places, Miss Patty and Babette would have had to resort to bugging local gathering spots, for want of good gossip," Lorelai reasoned.

"And that's illegal," Luke began. "Just like stealing people's mail."

"I don't want a locking, gray, boring box at the end of the street that requires a key to access my mail. If I wanted that set up, I'd have a box at the post office!"

"It's not that far away and it's more secure," Luke reasoned, and it sounded like a repeated sentiment.

"What are you afraid people are taking? The electric bill? Your fishing magazine? Because I have to tell you, I got that subscription for you as a joke," Lorelai informed him.

"This is the mailbox drama?" Rory turned to Kirk.

"Taylor wants to install lock boxes," Kirk nodded. "The town's pretty split."

"And Luke's on Taylor's side?" Rory asked, slightly horrified.

"It's a very subversive issue. The town hasn't been this divided since Luke and Lorelai broke up the first time," Kirk nodded gravely.

"Are the lock boxes necessary?" Rory asked.

Kirk shrugged. "Taylor thinks someone is stealing his lifestyle magazines. He says action must be taken."

Rory turned to Lorelai. "He still gets those?"

"He was until someone started swiping them," Lorelai grinned. "We told him it was just kids or probably Kirk, but he said that was all the more reason to get the boxes."

"It wasn't me!" Kirk yelped.

"So why do you care about the lock boxes? If it's just annoying Taylor, shouldn't you be against them?" Rory asked Luke, ignoring Kirk.

"Normally I'd shoot down Taylor's insanity, but he does have a valid point, even if he's just worried about his dirty little magazines. Mail fraud is a real concern. Your mother isn't deciding against them because she doesn't think there's a safety concern."

"My reasons are valid!" Lorelai defended.

"Here we go again. This fight is being waged in homes all over Stars Hollow," Kirk informed her.

"Why are you against the boxes?" Rory asked her mother.

"They're ugly!" Lorelai informed in a put-out tone. "And there's only one per block in most cases, so I'd have to traipse all the way down to the end of the road to get my mail."

"Just stop your car at the boxes on your way in from work," Luke offered.

"I like having my own mailbox. I can choose its personality, it's right in front of my house, and it displays my house number. This big, clunky box has locks, it's far away, and it's basically an automaton that assigns me a number and doesn't give any regard for me or my choices. I might as well sign my whole life over to the government. What is this, the USSR?"

Rory and Luke exchanged glances. "I don't think Taylor is trying to become a Communist dictator," Rory began gently.

"I wouldn't go that far in his defense," Luke interjected.

"Hey, you're in politics at a state level. Once Jack's in office, can't you push something through to rein Taylor in?" Lorelai asked Rory.

"You want me to agree to abuse my position of power before I'm even in it?" Rory asked skeptically.

"I'm your mother! Without me, there's no you. And with Taylor running about, I might as well not exist! You do the math."

"It's just a mailbox," Luke shook his head.

"Where does it end, Luke? It's just free speech? It's just religious freedom?" Lorelai asked, clearly outraged.

"You're not religious!" he barked.

"By choice! And I should have the same choice to have a mailbox that's painted to look like a cow or the face of Richard Nixon."

"You have a plain white mailbox with a ladybug next to your address," Kirk frowned.

"Sure, for now," she said, exasperated. "Taylor would probably have me arrested if I tried to paint a ladybug on assigned box number 6!"

"Hey! What did you do?" Rory yelped, taking the time to ignore the endless argument and check her phone as she received a new text.

"I haven't done it yet, but don't think I won't try! Death to the grey boxes of conformity!" she held up her fist in outrage. Several other patrons seemed to agree with her. She peered at the phone as Rory shoved it in her face and indicated that it was the text she'd sent that she was referring to. "Oh. I just asked Tristan to have dinner in Stars Hollow after the meeting you guys have. Well, technically he probably thinks you asked him to have dinner."

"He said yes. To coming to Stars Hollow for dinner," Rory said in an irritated tone.

"I assumed with all the giddy smiling you were doing and the constant sexting, you two had worked things out," Lorelai frowned.

"One, we are not sexting. Two, we did work things out, but that doesn't mean you should take it upon yourself to invite him over for dinner."

"He thinks you invited him. What's the big deal? It's not like I haven't met him a couple of times now," she reasoned.

"Yeah, but not in an official capacity," Rory pointed out.

"So, this would be official? Will there be bowing, do I need to curtsy?"

Rory bit her lip. "No, but it sounds like sort of a step we're taking, to have dinner with my mother. And he agreed to it."

"Try not saying 'mother' in that tone. I'm not Emily. You won't be mean to Tristan, will you, Luke?" Lorelai asked in a purring voice.

"Not unless he starts the great mailbox debate yet another time," he said in a defeated, low tone.

Lorelai smiled. "There you go. Just tell him not to mention mailboxes."

"See, that's the thing about bringing boys home. I have to give them all these really random ground rules. It's off-putting."

"To you or them? Besides do you really want to be with someone who scares easily?" Lorelai posed.

"I scare easily. I thought it was restless legs syndrome, but the doctor says my jumpiness is not caused by my medical condition," Kirk chimed in, still at the end of the counter.

"Fine. But we're eating at your house, not the diner," Rory suggested.

"Done."

"And we can't stay long."

"Fine."

"There might be something that comes up that necessitates our having to leave at any moment," she impressed.

Lorelai looked scandalized. "Hey! I just said, I am not Emily Gilmore. So, stop preplanning all emergency release contingencies. You'll give me a complex."

Rory picked up her cup of coffee. "I have to go. I'll bring Tristan to the house when we're done in Woodbridge."

"You're leaving before I get my coffee?" Lorelai asked, holding up her hands in wonderment.

"Maybe you should start following Luke's rules and he'd serve you more expediently," Rory smiled as she waved to Luke on her way out the door.

XXXX

Rory drummed her fingers on her steering wheel as she slowed down to make the last turn. By the time she had gotten out of her car, Tristan's pulled up next to her and he stretched as he stood up.

"We don't have to stay long," she promised for the third time.

"You mentioned that," he said as he shut his door and walked over to her.

"And don't make any jokes about our being naked or having sex. Luke gets strangely upset when people bring up the fact I'm older than twelve."

Tristan frowned. "O-kay."

"And don't say anything about mailboxes!" Rory said frantically.

"I think I can manage to avoid that topic," he said before clearing his throat and putting his hands on her shoulders. "Are you nervous?"

Rory shook her head. "No. Why would I be nervous? I've met them before."

"I've met your mom before."

"Yeah, but that was before. I mean, I know you were over here last night, but not with me, not like … this," she gestured between the two of them.

"Oh," he closed his eyes and smiled as he realized what she was not quite able to say. "You're bringing your boyfriend home."

She frowned at him. "Am I?"

He then frowned in turn at her. "Are you?"

"Stop that," she chastised, feeling he was mocking her.

"It seems like you need some sort of clarification. Do I need to declare myself as your boyfriend? If not, we could discuss something else, like mailboxes," he teased her with a partially suppressed smile.

"This is such a bad idea," she muttered to herself.

"This was your idea, you do realize that?"

"It was Mom, she was obsessed with the idea that we were sexting, and she stole my phone and invited you over."

A smile spread slow and wide across his features. "Why haven't you sexted me?"

Her eyes widened in disbelief. "You're the one that lectured me on how those kinds of communication can be seen by anyone who bothers to look! You do plan on running for office someday, how would that look?"

"Like an incredibly desirable woman likes to do really dirty things to me, I'd hope," he confessed. "But I am touched that you're holding back to protect my future. How about if we just engage in a lot more dirty talk in bed? Since I am your boyfriend and all."

She blushed furiously. "I am almost positive that you and my mother should not spend much time together under one roof."

"But I like your mother."

"That is exactly my point," she blew out a breath.

He kissed her. "Maybe we need a safe word."

She frowned again. "For sex?"

He laughed. "I was thinking more for dinner. How about 'mailbox?'"

She poked her finger in his chest. "I need you to behave."

He gently took her finger and the rest of her hand in his. "If I do, you'll consider the dirty talk?"

She rolled her eyes. "Sure."

"We have an accord," he smiled and started steering her toward the front door. "But you will explain the mailbox thing later, right?"

She sighed. "If you really must know," she said drolly as they walked up to the front porch together, their arms easily wrapped around the other's waist.

The door opened before they reached it. Rory eyed her mother as they stopped. "Were you watching us?"

"I would never do that," Lorelai said as she smiled at the pair.

"Did you make Luke spy?"

"Luke's cooking. I heard your cars pull up. Now get in here and tell me how the event went," she suggested as she ushered them both in.

"It went fine. Jack did great, as always, and the crowd was receptive," Rory explained.

"Nothing exciting happened?" Lorelai asked.

"Exciting by your standards would be a logistical nightmare for us," Rory said. "I'll settle for everything running smoothly at this point."

"How about you? I bet you like a challenge now and then," Lorelai turned to Tristan.

He glanced from Rory to Lorelai. "Getting things to the point of running smoothly is surprisingly challenging enough. Though Jack does pull his own weight. That isn't always the case with candidates, or so I'm told. I've been lucky in that regard."

"Any man who can convince my daughter to move back and stay for a while is approved in my book," Lorelai agreed. "He's definitely got my vote."

"We'll take all we can get for whatever reason, though I bet Rory would appreciate not having to move yet again," he postulated.

"It was just the once," Lorelai shrugged. "Right?"

"I sort of have to find a new place, in the next thirty days," Rory said. "I forgot to sign my lease in time."

Lorelai's eyes widened knowingly. "Oh."

"It's not a big deal," Rory brushed it off as they walked into the kitchen.

"Where are you going to move to?" Lorelai asked.

"You're moving again?" Luke asked, looking up from the stove.

"Hey, Luke. Yeah, I'm moving, but I'm staying in Hartford, as planned."

"Don't you have more than one place to live?" Lorelai asked Tristan.

"Mom," Rory said as she shook her head.

"Actually, I do," Tristan answered easily.

"You don't always have to indulge her in her chosen topic of conversation," Rory said to Tristan. "That's a disclaimer I give you for your own good."

"She was just clarifying a fact," he assured her.

"Didn't you two just start dating?" Luke asked as he slid plates onto the table.

Rory sat down. "Yes, we did."

"Every relationship is different," Lorelai said, sitting adjacent her daughter.

"And thank God for that," Tristan said.

Rory shot him a puzzled look. He shrugged.

"We can talk about something other than my upcoming apartment hunt," she suggested.

"Are you sure you want an apartment? You'll be in whatever you choose for a while," Lorelai diverted onto a similar tangent.

"But you'll just be moving to Washington in four years, right?" Luke asked. "Buying doesn't make sense."

"I thought buying always made sense," Lorelai corrected.

"Not in this economy," he scoffed.

"Hartford's been pretty steady, at least, for the most part," Tristan advised.

"Let's talk about stuff going on here. The fall festival is soon, right?" Rory attempted to change the subject.

"You probably have some money for a down payment, right? You always were a crazy saver. And you're making good money now," Lorelai said in an upbeat manner.

"Those are all things to take into consideration. But you could even find something a little rough, and I could do some work. And there's always Tom," Luke suggested.

"That's really sweet, and I do have a little money, but like you said, I might not be there more than a couple of years, wherever I choose to live for the time being," she said, not meeting Tristan's eyes.

"You could always rent it out while you're in DC," he said evenly.

She raised her eyes to his slowly. "I guess."

He shrugged. "Like Luke said, there are a lot of factors to consider. Not everything should be ruled out before you at least think it over."

"Renting could be good, especially if you plan on returning after Jack's out of office," Luke agreed.

"Do you?" Lorelai asked.

Rory turned to her quickly. "Do I what?"

"Plan on coming back to Hartford? Is that where you want to end up?"

Rory parted her mouth in hesitation and turned to face Tristan across the table. "I guess… that's one more thing to take into consideration."

"Maybe you should make one of your lists," Luke suggested. "They're cumbersome and exhausting, but they work, don't they?"

"What lists?" Tristan asked.

Lorelai smiled. "You don't know about her lists?"

Tristan raised an eyebrow at Rory. "You make a lot of lists?"

"Pro/con lists. To weigh my thoughts," she explained. "And they're not that exhaustive."

"It's how she picked Yale over Harvard," Luke explained. "That was an exhaustive list."

"And Chilton over Stars Hollow High, though that was sort of a no-brainer. A very expensive no-brainer," Lorelai joked heavily.

"What else have these lists helped you decide?" Tristan asked.

"You used one to decide against that job you got offered before you graduated Yale," Lorelai remembered.

Rory nodded. "I did."

"And you took up two tables at the diner with legal pads when you were thirteen, trying to decide if you wanted a co-ed party or a three-day girls' getaway for your birthday. You and Lane ate donuts until I thought for sure you'd both get sick," Luke reminisced.

"What won out?" Tristan asked.

"The girls' getaway. Mom took us into New York for pampering and a show," Rory smiled at her mom.

"Sounds like these lists are tried and true. You do have some time before you have to be out of your apartment, you should think about things. You can always store some things with me for a while, if you need to," he said.

"That's generous," she said, feeling this was just the beginning of a much larger discussion she wasn't ready to have at the dinner table with her mom and Luke present.

"At least all your belongings aren't in a hallway while your homeless status hangs in the balance," Lorelai said, still wandering down memory lane.

Rory's eyes flickered and she shook her head quickly at her mother, to warn her to divert that topic.

"You were homeless?" Tristan inquired.

"For about five seconds. Paris freaked out when we were roommates in college."

"Paris never did play well with others," Tristan smiled.

"She got over it," Rory assured him.

"But not before you moved in with Logan," Lorelai said in an annoyed tone. "I would have loved to see the look on Chris' face that night, when you took him back to your apartment and he heard who your new roommate was."

"You moved in with Logan because Paris threw you out?" Tristan asked in a state of disbelief.

Rory shifted in her seat. "Everything else was booked near campus, after the term started. He offered to let me stay with him and arranged for my stuff to be rescued from the hallway and stairwell. I thought it would be a temporary thing," she shrugged.

"You did move back in with Paris," Lorelai pointed out. "When you found out Logan cheated on you."

Rory's eyes closed to avoid seeing Tristan's reaction. "So, Luke, where did the town land on the new mailboxes?"

"I think maybe we should excuse ourselves for a second," Tristan said to Rory.

"I think we just need to change the topic," she shook her head.

"I'd enjoy not discussing the mailboxes again," Luke said with a sigh.

"Because you're a Communist," Lorelai narrowed her gaze at him.

"You're agreeing with Kirk. What does that tell you?" Luke volleyed back.

"Rory, can I talk to you in the living room, please?" Tristan said, standing up.

"Do I have to?" she asked with trepidation.

"I think it would be a good idea."

"Fine," she sighed and got up to follow him, leaving Luke and Lorelai to continue their debate. Once they were out of sight of their dinner companions she crossed her arms and faced him. "What?"

"You moved in with Logan to avoid being homeless," he said. "And you left because he cheated on you?"

"In a matter of speaking, yes."

"Is that why we haven't discussed you moving in with me?" he asked.

She blinked, flustered. "What? No."

"Because it is an obvious solution," he said calmly.

"I don't want our moving in together to be a solution," she said in disgust.

He paused. "So you have thought about it?"

She relaxed her stance just a little. "Of course, I've thought about it."

He eyed her knowingly. "Have you made a pro/con list already?"

She bit her lip. "No. I tried, but there are a number of factors that are too unsettled to categorize."

"Anything I can help you sort out?"

"We just started dating."

He nodded. "That's true."

"And your living situation is unorthodox."

He nodded again. "Again, true."

She took a deep breath. "And I got the feeling that you didn't like cohabitation the first time you tried it."

He relented. "It wasn't exactly my first choice."

"So I thought it was best to figure this out on my own, and not try to make it your issue," she explained.

He nodded and stepped in closer to her. His hands wrapped around her waist, and she melted against him. "There's just one other thing you should know."

She cocked her head to one side. "What's that?"

"I would like you to consider living with me."

Her breath caught. "You would?"

"Which column would I fall into?" he asked seriously.

She smiled. "There's really only one way to find out."

"We should probably skip out on dessert. It's late, and we have to let you work on this list."

She smiled coyly. "You know, there's one way to get into that pro column."

"Well, I do keep you warm. That should count for something," he said in a low voice before he kissed her.

"If you two are decent, I'd appreciate a witness in here so someone will avenge me at Luke's murder trial after he kills me over a mailbox," Lorelai called from the kitchen.

Rory rolled her eyes and kissed him one more time before leading him back into the kitchen.

"Thank God. Apparently agreeing to disagree isn't going to work—we're a household divided!" Lorelai complained.

"Okay, someone has got to explain the mailbox thing to me," Tristan said, eliciting a groan from both Luke and Rory as Lorelai delved into the arduous explanation, giving Tristan his first taste of their small town political structure. Rory caught herself enjoying watching him react to her mother, in the short time that remained before they left for Hartford, thinking that this was what it was like to have him in her life. He fit into all the different parts of her life perfectly. Maybe choosing to live with him would be much more than just a solution to a housing dilemma. It was definitely a major consideration.


	18. Something Don't Seem Right

Story Title: No Way Back

Chapter Title: Something Don't Seem Right

Description: Rory Gilmore gets tangled up in the other side of politics, but is she prepared to tangle with all it entails? Not if Tristan Dugrey has anything to say about it.

Rating: M

AN: Got some major things coming in the next chapter, and that isn't to say this is all filler, but it's definitely getting us ready for what's coming. But you being such astute readers will probably figure that out on your own. Chapter title again from Foo Fighter's _No Way Back_.

Tristan came out of the bathroom to see Rory still on the phone with several legal pads in a semicircle around her on the bed. He moved to the mirror to check his tie was straight and turned back to face her. She had the cap end of the pen in between her teeth, and she was biting it lightly. She looked up at him and removed the pen.

"Still on hold?" he asked.

"Yes. But my call is very important to them. They cut into their crappy, blaring Musak every thirty seconds to assure me of that fact," she mimicked the recorded voice's oddly enthusiastic tone.

"Just keep pressing zero until you get a person," he told her.

"Don't you think I tried that? They don't want me to get an actual person, because once I get an actual person, I'm going to have questions they aren't going to know how to answer, and I'll be put back on hold anyhow, why bother taking me off?" she asked as she frowned against the phone. Something occurred to her and she made a notation on one of the notepads.

"Can I see the lists yet?" he asked in a tired tone.

"No!" she said, picking up a few of the notepads and holding them to her. "They're not ready. It's only been a couple of days."

"But most of that is about me," he said as he sat down on the bed and wrapped a hand gently around her calf.

She bit her lip as she considered his request. "But they're my thoughts. And you're going to make fun of me."

"If I haven't started mocking the sheer magnitude of the list yet, then I think I can hold back upon actually reading said list. Though I will go on record and say I'm never encouraging this kind of behavior in you again."

"Some of this is work. And I'm thorough. I thought you liked that about me," she reminded him.

"Not when your thoroughness doesn't leave room in the bed for me," he said as he ran his hand up the underneath side of her leg. "Do you do yoga?"

She glanced down at her pants. "No. Yoga is dangerous."

"I have a feeling the story behind that statement will wind up sounding like the whole mailbox debate."

"I'll condense it for your sake. Mom broke her leg doing yoga. And I see no reason to tempt fate."

"So, why do you have the pants?" he inquired.

"They're the most comfortable thing on the planet," she said as if he should have already known the answer. Just after she answered him, a real voice spoke in her ear and she held up a finger to Tristan. He didn't move from the bed, but continued to run his hand over her leg slowly. "Yes, hello. This is Rory Gilmore, I got a message from the debate committee about a change to the schedule for the Kent/McKerney debate? Yes, I can hold," she said with a sigh, pulling the mouthpiece away slightly. "Okay, when I talk to someone who knows what's going on, you're going to need to stop doing that," she pointed to his hand.

He smiled. "Am I distracting you?"

She flipped up one of the legal pads and showed him.

"It made the list. What else about me is in the con column?" he asked, peering at her neat script. "That's quite a number of question marks next to some of these."

"The question marks are things I need clarification on before I can assign them permanently."

"Is that why those are in pencil?"

"Yes."

"What's with the red ink?"

"Those are the more important items," she answered.

"So, my ability to distract you is in blue ink. This is a minor offense?"

She rolled her eyes. "It's not an offense. It's just that I have less focus for other things when you're around and your pants are likely to come off."

He smiled and tugged lightly at the soft, elastic fabric. "These yoga pants look easy to remove."

"I'm on the phone. For work."

"You're on hold. We could see if we can beat the clock."

"Maybe I should have put it in red ink," she mused.

"Fine. Let's knock out some of these penciled in items while you wait, then, shall we?"

"I do like a man who will help me multitask," she smiled brightly at him.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "'He doesn't like his apartment,' followed by a question mark. What is the actual question?"

"You just don't seem attached to the place. Why do you live in it if you don't like it?"

"We don't have to live in my apartment," he answered plaintively.

"So, you want to move to your house?"

He tapped the list. "Yet another statement followed by a question mark, 'He doesn't live in his house.'"

"If we're going to live together, we need a place to actually keep all our stuff. Preferably just one place that we both like. I'd also enjoy getting my mail there."

He looked up from the list. "It's a reasonable request."

"So, which do you prefer?"

He shrugged. "Either. Or neither one is okay too."

"You want us to be homeless?" she surmised.

He smiled. "I was thinking more along the lines of finding a new place, together."

"But you don't have to move."

"And yet, I'm willing to."

"Interesting," she said as someone else came on the line in her ear. Her finger went back up and he returned to inspecting her list.

"Ms. Gilmore?"

"Yes, I'm calling on behalf of Jack Kent's campaign. I got a message that there was a request to change the debate format? I thought everything was locked in two weeks ago."

"The deadline has passed, but Mr. McKerney's team has asked for an additional question and response time to be added to the program."

"What is the question?"

"Mr. McKerney wishes to ask Mr. Kent about his recent endorsement of Segielman for the State's Attorney race."

"What? Why is that relevant?" Rory asked, sitting up straighter. Tristan's eyes flickered to her with interest.

"His representative said he felt that it was an important development in the direction of the campaign that correlated with the manner in which your candidate would govern our state."

"Correlation is little more than conjecture. Can we oppose the addition? It's past the deadline."

"The addition has already been approved, we're just informing you so you're aware of the addition."

Rory's mouth dropped open. "Do we get to submit last minute additions as well?"

"Do you wish to?"

"Not at the moment, but shouldn't we be afforded the same leniencies?"

"If you need to submit an additional question, you have until five o'clock tonight, given the circumstances. Each candidate is required twenty-four hours to form a response to the chosen questions, and we'll be sending out the finalized lists at that time."

"Right. Thank you," she said without meaning it and tossed her phone onto the pillow next to her.

"They're adding a question to the debate?" he asked solemnly, ignoring the list momentarily.

"Yes. They want to discuss Jack's endorsement of Segielman."

His expression hardened. "That's not good."

She bit her lip. "They're sending out the finalized list at five. We also have until that time to submit an additional question of our own."

He nodded. "I'll look into a few things."

She leaned back against her pillow and studied him. "Why would McKerney bring it up, unless he thought it was a weak point somehow?"

"I'll talk to Boyd and my grandfather. You can call Robert, but make sure you play it off as casual interest in how things are progressing. He likes you, and he's much more likely to tell you how things went with my dad."

She nodded. "Speaking of your parents, I got this yesterday," she pulled an envelope out of one of the pads of paper and handed it to him.

"Something you didn't immediately toss into the pile?" He took the envelope from her and pulled out the thick cardstock to give it a quick once over. "Just send your regrets."

"But," she began.

"Rory," he shook his head. "We have enough going on. The election is close. After the debate, we have a ton of public appearances, and you have to move in the interim, no matter what decision you make about where you'll be living. You don't have time to let my mother play mind games with you."

"It's just a luncheon. It's one of those frilly society things, probably so she can size me up in the way rich women do. It's not something I find intimidating," she assured him.

"Please don't feel obligated to go on my account. I sure as hell wouldn't attend."

"It's your mom," she impressed.

He blinked. "I realize that. I still wouldn't go."

"I assume you told her we're dating," she led.

"No. That's you and your mom. But I'm sure she's found out on her own, given the invite."

Rory paled. "Oh, no."

"What's wrong?" he asked in concern. "I never have told my parents much about my life, it has nothing to do with you."

"No, it's not that. If she's heard we're dating, then Emily's probably heard. She hates finding out I'm dating someone from other people. She thinks it's the polite thing to invite any boyfriend of mine over immediately for dinner and the full Spanish Inquisition treatment."

"I'm guessing you aren't likely to want to decline that invitation either," he led drolly.

"It wouldn't be that bad. They like you. Hopefully they won't start asking you how many children you want or your opinions of weddings on Martha's Vineyard like last time," she breathed out heavily.

"Last time? Oh, right. I'm sure they had the wedding invitations all ready when the Huntzberger heir showed up."

She looked down at the piles of paper in her lap. "They liked Logan. It doesn't mean that they would like you any less."

"Trust me, I'm sure I'm considered a step down," he said with a roll of his eyes.

"Not to me. They understand that I had no interest in marrying Logan. And I will be clear that you and I are together, when the time comes. I'll know when they find out, Emily wastes no time."

"Expect it soon. My grandfather mentioned he was going to play golf with Richard this weekend."

Rory smacked a hand to her forehead. "Then she might have invited my grandmother to this too. I should go. It won't kill me to make nice to your mother for a couple of hours."

"It's your afternoon you're wasting," he shrugged. "So, back to this list," he held it back up.

"Yeah?"

"You want to know what happens if you move to DC in four years? It is in red ink."

She nodded as she tapped a pen against one of the pads. "If you're running for office here, then," she led.

He put the down the list and looked at her. "That's four years away."

"I know."

"I can't tell you how things will look in four years."

She nodded. "I know, but," she said again.

"I know that right now we're both here and this is something I want. If it's what you want too, then forget about what might happen four years from now. We'll figure that out in four years."

She nodded in relief. "Okay."

He leaned in to kiss her. "I need to go. Go see Robert. Wear something with a high collar," he added.

"And you're okay with me agreeing to go to this?" she held up the invitation.

"As long as it doesn't interfere with work, it's your free time. If you'd rather spend it with my mother than me, that's your hardship to endure," he smirked at her.

"It just seems easier, if everyone was on board with our relationship."

He smiled wistfully. "It would seem easier, wouldn't it?"

She frowned. "You don't think your mother likes me?"

"I think it's irrelevant. I like you. I've never experienced everyone in my family agreeing with any of my decisions. It might be nice, but it's sure as hell not necessary."

She leaned up and pulled at his jacket until they met in a kiss. "I'll let you know when I find out what Robert knows."

"I'll bring dinner later, and we can finalize the debate questions."

She smiled. "You'll be pleasantly surprised how long your pro column is."

He kissed her again. "Nah. I have a pretty healthy ego, remember?" he asked as he left her with her lists to get ready for another long day. She checked the date of the luncheon, to see that it was a week away. She could only hope that she could fend Emily off for that long. She called the RSVP number and waited. At least a real person would answer at the Hartford Women's League and not subject her to awful Musak after they put her on hold.

XXXX

Robert smiled as he approached Rory in the downtown park. The wind had kicked up, rustling the trees and her skirt, a sign fall was upon them. She held out a cup of coffee to him as he fell into step beside her.

"You brought me coffee?" he asked with surprise.

"You did agree to meet with me on short notice. It's a common gesture of appreciation."

"I like to operate under spontaneity. It keeps things fresh," he said as he took the coffee. "I hear things are heating up over at your place."

She frowned. "Just what are you hearing?"

He stared out into the distance. "We're still the underdog. Kent is a front-runner, and he just endorsed us."

Rory frowned. "He insisted it was the right thing to do."

"Which is very sporting of him, considering that someone is whispering in Brockman's ear that Jack is more involved than a mere endorsement deal."

"Can I get a name?"

He blew out a breath. "I'm not even sure yet where the roots are."

She raised an eyebrow. "I thought you had all the dirt."

"I'm trying. I assumed it was Ashley. She never was much good at keeping her mouth shut. There were plenty of people who knew what her game was with Dugrey back in the day, because she had to brag about her accomplishments."

Rory felt the heat of discontent flare at the mention of the other woman, not to mention the situation Robert referenced. "You talked to Ashley?"

"I never turn down an offer from an attractive woman that invites me over for fun and games," he said with a sparkle in his eyes.

Rory stiffened. "You didn't."

"Oh, I did. She was pissed, afterward, since all her work didn't yield her the results she wanted. I got most everything I was looking for, however."

"What exactly was she hoping to gain from your little tryst?" she asked with distaste.

"She thought she could trade some sex for my good graces."

"She didn't realize you don't have good graces?" Rory asked.

"That's why I like you. You get me."

"I'm also not going to sleep with you. Why did you sleep with her? Won't Brockman hire someone to kill you if he finds out?"

Robert shook his head. "First of all, he sent her along as a peace offering. That much was made abundantly clear. Second of all, he could care less whom she's banging, as long as she looks the other way while he has his fun, and given her performance last night, he's definitely working other angles. Mutually encouraged destruction and all that."

"I thought they were engaged."

"They are," Robert said easily. "This is about power, not love."

"And Ashley has power?"

"For what Brockman needs? Potentially. She's linked to Dugrey's unsavory past and she is an excellent society trophy wife. What else could Brockman want?"

Rory rolled her eyes. "My mistake. Sounds like the perfect union."

"Anyway, before I gave her the bad news that I had no interest in helping Brockman win for some mediocre sex, she was feeling generous and mentioned that Brockman was getting nervous about his lead with me sniffing around. Which I sort of deduced from his fiancée seducing me, but there you have it."

"So, whatever you're doing, it's working?"

"With some fringe benefits to boot," he smirked. "Sex with a blonde and her new boobs and frequent chats with a gorgeous brunette who brings me coffee. I assume everything on you is the real deal."

"That's something for Tristan to know," she informed him with a flippant tone. "So, Brockman knows Jack's involved beyond the endorsement?"

"Yep. Or at least, he's paranoid enough about it to meet with McKerney. Ash was saying how the moment they both got elected, she'd finally get what she deserves, so it's clear they're in contact, though they're keeping it under wraps. Can't blame McKerney—even I wouldn't want to be known as being friendly toward Brockman. Did you see the latest headlines?" Robert asked smugly.

"His record for keeping drug dealers on the streets was quite staggering," Rory admitted. "His camp claims it's about giving lower-class kids second chances."

"Yeah, but given most of their records, it's giving them third chances to shoot someone on the street," Robert explained.

"Keep on him. If he's nervous, that's good."

"Good luck tomorrow," Robert said. "And thanks for the coffee."

Rory nodded. "Just one more thing. Did you talk to Tristan's dad?"

"I did."

"Did he tell you anything?"

Robert paused. "All he'd say was that he didn't introduce Ashley to Brockman. But that he was aware of the match and thought they made a handsome couple."

Rory made a face. "So, he lied?"

Robert shrugged. "I don't think he was lying. We got along pretty well, though he was fairly put off by the fact that I was on Segielman's team. Not to mention the fact that I knew that he and Brockman had a deal when he was handing out rulings for cash."

Rory gripped her coffee cup. "Are you sure?"

"My BS detector is fairly accurate. I firmly believe you shouldn't dole it out if you can't take it in return," Robert smirked.

Rory nodded. "I have to go. We'll talk soon."

"I look forward to it," Robert called as they parted ways.

XXXX

Rory passed her office and went straight for Tristan's where he and Jack were in a meeting with Janlan. She entered and closed the door, leaning against it as they acknowledged her but continued with their conversation. She kept silent and listened.

"We may not have any way of knowing exactly what McKerney thinks he can gain. What we need is something to convince him not to make the implication in the first place," Tristan said. "Cut him off at the pass. Rory can get a question to the moderator before five, and they'll throw it in. We can cut anything at the last minute, but we're not allowed to add after five. If we play it right, we can show him we're not the only one with something to lose."

"I don't see why he'd get involved with Brockman," Jack said honestly. "McKerney isn't the purest guy out there, but he's not on Brockman's level. There's something we're missing, that's for sure, unless he's just desperate."

"What I want to know is who's feeding the information through," Janlan spoke up.

"You have any luck?" Tristan asked Rory. She leaned forward from the wall.

"Actually, yes. Robert's fairly sure that while your dad knew about it, he isn't behind setting Ashley and Brockman up. But he says for sure Brockman was in bed with your dad, when he was selling verdicts."

"Yeah, he plea-bargained out when my father got busted. But who else would have masterminded the relationship?" Tristan asked.

"Well, Brockman may not be ethical, but he is fairly intelligent. If he knew you had been married to her and looked into it, he could have put this all together, as some sort of security measure without your father's initializing it."

"Brockman isn't a forward thinker," Janlan argued. "Someone pointed out the lucrativeness of the deal to him."

"Robert thought so too, but he hasn't gotten that far yet. Apparently he was certain that Brockman was starting to sweat his lead already, which is good, but it might be pushing them to start taking bigger swings."

"Which is why McKerney has a sudden interest in Jack's endorsement?" Tristan asked.

Rory shrugged. "Do we have anything else to make him back off?"

"If we can nail down the link between them, it's guaranteed, but I'm starting to think it's going to take longer than a few hours to track that down," Tristan said with regret. "Jack, what do you want to do?"

"Assume the worst. I need two answers—one for the basic question of why I backed Segielman and one for my interest in aiding a race that is not my own."

"And our official stance on that is?" Rory led.

"That Brockman's tactics and record are such that should be troubling to the people of Connecticut and have not gone unnoticed by his peers. That as a candidate running for Governor, illegal activities are not going to be tolerated, and therefore his only option was to give support in the best way he could, which was a public endorsement of a clean candidate. McKerney can't prove any other involvement on Jack's behalf. All Jack has done was take a meeting with Boyd and my grandfather, and no one can prove that the meeting was anything other than old friends catching up on life," Tristan said.

What they could prove, as she instantly thought, was her involvement as a part of Jack's team by introducing her former classmate to Segielman, just before an onslaught of personal and professional attacks began on Brockman and his fiancé.

"So Jack's covered," she concluded.

Tristan nodded carefully. "Yes. Jack's covered."

"Good," she said, though it was the furthest emotion from her current state of mind as she contemplated having to step out of her first political assignment in the controversy of scandal. She'd heard one too many times that no one wants to take on people who are ousted in such a manner; where did that leave her career? Would she go back to journalism or try to segue into yet another direction? She shook off the questions, knowing now was a time to focus on what was in front of her. "I'm just going to go start on debate response. I might as well get a jump on the questions, since we have a heads up and our submission list."

Janlan rose on her departure and followed her out into the hall. He joined her as she entered her office. "Are you alright?"

She looked up sharply. "I hope so. But Jack's safe, and Tristan won't be brought into this yet."

"But you might," Janlan said knowingly.

"It seems likely."

"He won't let you quit."

"Jack? He will and he should."

"I meant Tristan."

Her eyes stung. "He won't have much of a choice."

Janlan nodded. "McKerney may be running on partial information. I wouldn't worry until the worst occurs. Politics is full of big talk and intimidation and low on action. If he has something, he'll use it. We'll know straight away."

"I shouldn't worry too much about it, I mean, I can always fall back on journalism," she said with as much confidence as she could muster; it didn't feel like a lot given the circumstances.

Janlan looked surprised. "Is that what journalism is to you now? A fallback career?"

She hadn't even realized she'd phrased it that way. "I don't know. Maybe."

He tapped on her desk. "I should let you work."

She nodded absently.

Janlan paused. "He wanted to come after you, when you left. I saw it on his face."

She smiled kindly. "Is that why you came in here?"

"I'm sure he'll find his way in when he can. This way he knew you weren't in here pondering the imminent demise of your career alone."

"It might be easier, if that were all I had on my mind."

Janlan frowned as he continued to stand over her. "Anything you wish to share?"

Rory hesitated. "Robert slept with Ashley. He says Brockman offered her as a good will gesture, to bring Robert into his fold."

Janlan cringed. "Tasteful."

"Someone's making the connection. Robert didn't tell Ashley anything. He's nothing if not devoid of human emotion, so he's not easy to sway with fake affection. In this scenario, his callousness really worked to our advantage."

The faintest smile appeared on his lips. "The things that are tossed about by your generation astound me at times."

Rory blushed. "I'm sorry. I figured since you were a veteran of these things, you'd have heard worse."

"It's not that I haven't heard worse. It's just such an accepted attitude, that people are inherently bad. I'm not sure what drives you all to get out of bed in the mornings, with your jaded worldviews."

"I find coffee the most effective," she answered with a wry smile. "Tristan's the one that leaps out of bed early and goes running. Perhaps you should ask him."

"It didn't make the con list," Tristan said from her doorway.

Rory and Janlan turned to him. Her heart leapt. "No, it did not."

"Everything okay in here?" Tristan asked.

Rory nodded. "Just chatting about the likelihood that I'll be clearing out my office on Monday."

Tristan shook his head. "Save your packing for your apartment. And don't forget, I'm bringing dinner later."

Her eyes widened at the mention in front of his grandfather.

"He knows you're keeping me waiting about the offer to move in together," Tristan assured her.

Rory shot a glance at Janlan. "Tristan said you're meeting my grandfather soon?"

"We'd appreciate you keeping the privileged information to yourself, at least until she makes up her mind," Tristan supplied.

"I wouldn't dream of letting the cat out of the bag," Janlan assured them. "It's just two old friends playing golf. Nothing more."

Tristan smiled at Rory. "See? No dinners with Emily or wagering for dowries are imminent. Now if you'd wise up and decline my mother's invitation, it'd be smooth sailing on the family front."

Janlan turned back to Rory. "Annabelle invited you to lunch?"

Rory nodded. "It's just some charity thing. I already RSVP'd."

Tristan groaned. "Seriously?"

"It's your mother," she said again.

"Well, I'm glad to know that one of you values family and good manners," Janlan said. "I'm off to meet with Boyd. Jack needs to fall off Brockman's radar, not that he was involved in that race in any direct way besides the endorsement. Whoever put this into motion knew what they were doing, that's for certain."

With a nod to Rory and a hand clapped against Tristan's shoulder, Janlan took his leave. Tristan stepped further into the office and closed the door. Within a second, he pulled her up and against him. "You're not thinking of doing anything crazy and quitting are you?"

She rested her cheek against his chest. "Not until after the debate."

"Rory," he said with warning.

She pulled back to look at him. "If they go there, I'll have to."

"They might be grasping at straws now that they're both sinking. And it's to their detriment if they go throwing things out there that are defamatory. Most of the players have law degrees and few are that stupid. Conniving, yes, but not stupid."

"I wish we knew more."

"I'm working on it," he said. "Just start the responses, get the rest of the questions, and I'll be back to help you," he informed her before kissing her forehead. "No one's quitting."

She nodded and took a cleansing breath. "That's on your pro column, you know."

He eyed her quizzically. "What is?"

"Supportive of my career," she clued him in.

"I'd pity the man that wasn't," he said seriously.

She gave a small laugh. "You should go."

He nodded. "I'm going. But I'm still going to be wondering what else is in the pro column."

"Your ego is healthy enough, remember?" she teased.

"It takes a hit, the longer you make me wait," he admitted.

"I was hoping we could discuss it this weekend, after the debate."

He tensed. "I don't want you to wait to see if bad news changes your decision. Remember all the talk about we'll deal with things that happen in the future?"

"It's the next chance we'll have to be alone together, to talk and go over my list," she said.

"Promise me you aren't just waiting for the other shoe to drop."

She gave him the most convincing smile she could manage. "I promise. Now go find something on McKerney or figure out who's behind all the Brockman connections, other than Ashley. Tie those things together, and we'll win by a veritable landslide," she said, her tone hopeful.

"Listen to all the confidence you have in me," he said with appreciation. "How far we've come. I'm starting to think you might say want to say yes."

"It's a solid fifty-fifty shot," she said with a straight face. "Go, I'm fine."

He nodded and kissed her cheek one last time before he let himself out of her office. She sat down and concentrated on keeping Jack as untouchable as possible, even at her own expense. Somehow prepping for this debate didn't have the same easy feel as all the other appearances had offered.

XXXX

"It's your turn."

Rory shoved chopsticks into a container of rice and shook her head. "Play time's over. We still have three questions to knock out before we're done."

"Which means we're almost done and we deserve an extra five minutes of this last break," he pointed out.

"Fine. But I need sleep tonight. I may be on the road to being homeless and jobless after tomorrow," she narrowed her eyes at him.

"It's not like you'd be searching for a job or a place to live long," he assured her.

"Who's going to hire a disgraced speech writer?" she asked. "And don't say you. You aren't even running yet. Any money you give me would be for sex, and that's illegal."

He smirked. "But you are still considering living with me, as long as I don't pay you for sex?"

She shook her head at him as she laughed. "It's still under advisement."

"And it's still your turn," he said.

"Fine. Truth."

He sighed with disappointment. "You never pick dare."

"We're still at the office and I'm not getting naked here," she said knowingly.

"I wasn't going to ask you to get naked. At least, not until we get back to your place."

She felt her cheeks warm. "Fine. I'll take a dare."

He smiled, clearly pleased. "I dare you to show me the pro column."

She groaned. "That's not a dare!"

"Sure it is. I just dared you to do it."

She rolled her eyes at his logic. "It's supposed to be something crazy or stupid."

"The list is a little crazy," he egged. "Admit it, you have a problem."

She pulled the list out of her bag and held it out. Just as he reached for it, she held it up out of his grasp. "Just… remember that this isn't finalized."

"They're positive items. I'm not going to be upset."

"Yes, but the wording is straight out of my head, and some things might not make sense to you."

"Your mind is a confusing place at times, but I think I'll manage," he said, taking the list from her. He was akin to a kid at Christmas as he finally skimmed over the items that she had listed as being favorable to her moving in with him. She knew what she wanted to do at that point, but she honestly couldn't help but feel that she owed it to them both to make this decision based on what the future may hold and not just what they were enjoying in the moment. She bit her lip as he perused the items.

"I might hire you as my communication director, if I can snare you away from Jack. You make me sound great."

"Well, I do have a soft spot for tough cases," she teased.

"Hah," he mused. The moment he fell silent, she guessed which item he'd reached. "I thought you said Logan had no bearing on this decision," he said tightly.

She closed her eyes. "He doesn't. I told you, it's right out of my head. I'd have to explain it."

"Any time you're ready."

Her eyes were pleading. "Just know that it's not bad."

"It's pretty damn vague."

"I know what it means," she assured him.

"What did he say that had a bearing on this decision?"

She let out a breath and did her best to keep her voice unemotional. "When he came by, let's just say we both noticed changes, mostly in me. He pointed out something to me, and it ranks as a favorable consideration for me moving in with you."

"I think you managed to make it sound vaguer."

She bit her lip. "It's a writer's gift."

"Rory," he groaned.

"Let's just get through these last three questions. After that, I'll tell you everything I'm thinking about us, good and bad. Work comes first, that was your rule."

He didn't look pleased, but he consented nonetheless. "I'm holding you to that."

She felt the wave of anxiety swell up in her stomach. "I know you will. Back to work, then?"

He nodded and they entered into the late part of the evening still in her office, prepping for what they both knew what could be a turning point in the campaign. If the debate went well, it would be a strong lead into the final stretch. If things went south, someone was going to have to take the heat in order for Jack to regain any lost ground. Work came first, as they still hadn't found the connection between McKerney and Brockman, and neither would rest easy until the discovery was made.


	19. Full Disclosure

Story Title: No Way Back

Chapter Title: Full Disclosure

Description: Rory Gilmore gets tangled up in the other side of politics, but is she prepared to tangle with all it entails? Not if Tristan Dugrey has anything to say about it.

Rating: M

AN: New year, new chapter! Hope everyone had a good holiday season, as we did here. On to some revelations!

Rory fastened the backing on the pearl earring, one of her most expensive and understated adornments, and stepped back to examine the finished result in the mirror. Appearance wasn't always her first concern, but it was a necessary consideration when getting ready for a luncheon at the Hartford Women's League. Not only would Tristan's mother judge her on her outfit and accessories, but no doubt Emily Gilmore would get a second-hand play-by-play of events. That is, if she wasn't planning on being in attendance herself. Rory hadn't wanted to draw more attention to the soiree by calling to inquire about the matter. In fact, she hadn't been calling many people in her life at all of late, and she'd been especially incommunicado with everyone since the debate the night before.

Satisfied with her overall image that gave off a timeless elegance, with her hair in a simple twist and a new outfit complementing her sparse jewelry, she sat primly on the edge of her bed and stared at her open laptop. Her eyes read over the same document for the twentieth time, and while she knew it wasn't exactly how she wanted it, she didn't have time to get it polished to her standards before she needed to leave for the lunch. She made one minor change before someone knocked on her door. With her thoughts still preoccupied, she got up and went to see who had come by.

Tristan let out a low whistle after she opened her door. "You look like Hartford Society Barbie."

She bent slightly at the waist and looked down at herself. "Is it too much?"

He shook his head. "My mother will be pleased. You mother would be horrified," he said as he leaned in her doorway, still running his eyes over her body. "I take it you're still going to the luncheon?"

She cleared her throat and turned into the apartment, which had yet to start to be packed up. Her decision to move in with Tristan had been solid in her mind, but after the way things had broken down at the debate, everything seemed unsettled once again in her mind. "I promised I'd go. And I need to leave soon."

He followed her into her bedroom and sat on her bed as she went to the mirror one more time and ran a finger around her lips to smooth out the line of the lipstick. "You have some time," he said easily. "You look perfect. Where'd you get the earrings?"

Her hand moved up to feel the smooth pearl. "They were a gift. Why?"

He didn't look pleased, but shrugged it off. "No reason."

She turned against the bureau and put her hands on the lip behind her. "Have you talked to Jack?"

He nodded and eyed her carefully. "Haven't you?"

She shook her head and bit her lip. It was tender at the slightest scrape of her teeth after all the abuse she'd given it in worry over the last twenty-four hours. Her eyes met his. "No. I didn't know what to say."

He nodded at her honesty and shifted his attention to her laptop. "What's this?"

She lunged as quickly as she could in her clothes to reach her laptop, but he picked it up and held onto it to give it a closer look. "It's just a precaution," she said.

Tristan's harsh gaze fell on her. "I told you, you're not quitting."

She crossed her arms. "I'm sorry, you were standing right next to me during the debate, were you not?"

He tensed. "It wasn't his finest hour."

"It was awful!" she exclaimed. "His focus was off, his passion was misplaced, and he sounded like he was on the defensive the whole time. He would have never been in that position if not for me," she reasoned.

"Actually, it's my fault that question was hanging over his head, not yours. You can't take all the credit for this one."

Her eyes widened. "This isn't funny. How did it affect the polls?"

He hesitated. "I'm waiting for the results. But it probably hurt us a little."

"A little?" she asked, her tone incredulous.

"Not enough for you to be sending out your resume," he countered.

She stiffened. "You're the one that told me that I needed to think ahead. My next move might be coming a lot sooner than anticipated."

"Just where are you planning on sending these?" he asked, his voice insistent.

She shrugged. "I'm not sure yet. I'm sure I'll make a variety of inquiries, to cover my bases."

"So, that's it? You figure you fail once so you're bowing out and moving back to New York? Politics was a brief misstep and you're going back to journalism?"

She shook her head. "I didn't say that. But I can't just sit around, jobless, hoping some other candidate shows up and needs me in Hartford, can I?"

The words stung, as he was about to be free to become such a person, she knew, but she also knew he knew what she meant. And if he wanted her to be a part of his team, he needed to make that known, and not just leave things to implication. "You just have to take care of yourself all the time, don't you?"

Her face softened as she became too confused to remain defensive. "What's that mean?"

"It means, why do you have to jump right into another job, should this one end abruptly?"

"Because I've become accustomed to having things like shelter and food," she rolled her eyes in sarcasm.

"I asked you to move in with me. Consider food part of the deal," he supplied.

She turned and grabbed her lipstick to slide it into her purse. She was certain she'd need a touch up throughout the day if she kept scraping it off with her teeth at this rate. "I never asked for you to take care of me. That's not the offer you made."

He stood up and closed the gap between the bed and the dresser, putting his hands on her shoulders to spin her around to face him. "The offer I made wasn't contingent on your employment status. I want to live with you, and that might mean one of us might get sick or jobless or whatever at some point. And if we're not going to take care of each other, what's the point?"

"I need to work," she said stressing the words. "I go crazy when I don't have something to focus on."

"Then I'll get you some cats," he said seriously, though he was clearly teasing her.

"Tristan, I'm serious."

"Jack has no intention of firing you."

"But he should. That debate was a disaster," she said as she closed her made-up eyes and leaned her forehead against his chest.

"He can't have a good showing every single time, as much as I wanted to believe he could. What happened was a perfect storm, it wasn't your fault."

"They set us up," she informed him irately, though he was well aware of the fact. "Why didn't they use the question about endorsing Segielman?"

His shoulders fell. "They didn't need to. Just putting the threat in our minds was enough. They wanted us to know that they had something to use."

"I thought Jack was safe," she said softly.

"It's politics. No one's ever really safe," he said simply, stating a fact. "If you really want to go back to writing," he began.

She put her hand on his cheek. "No, that's not it. I can't help feeling guilty for Jack's performance—my first instinct wasn't to keep his lead in the polls. When everything started coming from Brockman, I wanted to help you. He should fire me for that alone."

Whether he couldn't be mad at her for that or he just appreciated the sentiment, he pulled her back against his chest, risking the damage to her perfected coiffed appearance. She closed her eyes as her cheek pressed into his shirt. "Blow this thing off. We'll go somewhere."

She pulled back with regret. "I can't. It's just a couple of hours, and then I should go talk to Jack."

"You promised to give me an answer," he reminded her. She was well aware that he'd let her off the hook after their long night of work and full day with the debate. This was the first chance she'd given him to talk since the debacle, and it was only available to him because he gave her no warning.

"I know," she said, squeezing his hand as he still held tight to hers. "You've been very patient, I realize."

"Which is exceptionally impressive, as it's not a quality I'm usually known for," he hinted.

She kissed him lightly. "It's already been noted on the pro column."

"I know. What I still don't know, however, is what Logan said to you."

She felt her chest tighten, and she put her hand to his chest for stabilization. "He said that it sounded like you were in love with me."

He didn't react outwardly—not with a flinch or a smile. It unnerved her to no end as he simply continued to look at her without emotion. When he spoke, his voice was even and calm. "I'm guessing he didn't sound pleased to share that information."

She watched him carefully. "It probably wasn't something he relished in telling me. He wasn't exactly keen to hear how I felt about you, either."

"But you told him anyway?" he surmised.

She nodded. "I did."

"Are you planning on telling me?"

Her eyes flashed and her stomach dropped. She knew she needed to leave for the luncheon, but she also knew they needed to have much larger conversations, not to mention the fact that she needed to sort out things with Jack, but she felt rooted in place. "I told him that I'm in love with you."

Again, he gave no visible reaction. "Why did you tell him?"

She paused. "Because it's true?" she asked, not understanding his question.

He smiled. "No, I mean, why tell him at all?"

She shifted. "He hinted, none too subtly, that he missed me. That things could be different, if I were ready to get married and all that."

Now he looked interested. "Little does he know I can't even get you to agree to move in with me, and he convinced you in less than two minutes," he muttered.

"I gave it no thought when I moved in with him," she argued.

"And with me, you're weighing the decision as if your life depends on it," he tossed back.

"I made a mistake before. I don't want to do that with us. I don't want to write it off as some unimportant happenstance. I didn't move in with Logan because I loved him or because I thought someday we'd get married."

"It might be a big step, but it isn't as convoluted as you're making it out to be. It's a simple decision—do you want to live with me or not?" he demanded.

"Yes, I of course I do!" she said in a now-raised voice.

"Because you love me?" he pressed, his voice stern and his words completely juxtaposed with his attitude.

"Yes!" she answered again, still annoyed at the corner he'd backed her into. She suddenly felt remorse for any of the unfortunate souls who had crossed his path on a bad day at the office. "Happy now?"

He kissed her hard, taking her by surprise and definitely finishing off whatever lipstick may have remained on her lips. She gave into the moment and grabbed his arms below his shoulders as she felt her back arch back into the kiss. Her lips were still parted when he released her and she stared at him in a dazed way.

"You should get going to the luncheon. It may be one thing to be fashionably late, but even my mother gets there before food is served."

She blinked at him, still confused at what exactly had transpired between them. "Are we okay?"

He nodded. "I'll come help you pack later. We'll get to where exactly we're moving to later."

She pointed at her computer, left open and forgotten momentarily on the bed. "But don't we need to still talk?"

"We will. Don't worry about your job. It's safe. I'm going to spend most of the day doing damage control and assessing the hit we took. Call me if you need a good emergency excuse to get you out early. I may need you before it's over anyhow."

"Okay," she said slowly, grabbing her clutch and turning to the door of her bedroom. "You'll let yourself out, then?"

"I'm right behind you," he assured her, falling into step behind her as they walked through her apartment. "There is just one last thing."

She turned on her heel and faced him. "Yeah?"

He reached out for her again and slid his hand to her waist in order to hook her body and pull her back against him. "He was right."

She frowned just enough to cause a small wrinkle to form between her eyebrows. "Who was right?"

He wet his lips as he hesitated to answer. "Logan."

"Oh. Oh?" she asked as realization sunk in. "Is that right?"

He nodded. "And should he none-too-subtly inquire as to your interest in him again, I'll be happy to be the one to set him straight."

She put a hand on his chest gently. "I think we have plenty of more pressing issues to deal with."

"Well, not having to work on that list of yours anymore should free up plenty of time. We'll be back on track at work in no time," he teased easily, though she knew that it was going to take a lot more than a little of her time to get things back to normal on the campaign trail. It would help immensely if they weren't working against the clock, but apparently their favors had run out.

She nodded and searched his eyes. "Am I crazy for subjecting myself to this luncheon?"

He smiled. "I've heard you do crazy things when you're in love. I wouldn't have actually believed it until now, though."

She smiled back at him. "As long as I'm a total cliché, then."

"Go. Enjoy the mindless idle chitchat and little crust-less sandwiches. When you get back it'll be back to dealing with work and Robert and leftover takeout."

She took a breath and smoothed out her clothes. "How's my hair?"

"You could pass for the wife of a Republican congressman. You might want to reapply your lipstick, however," he cocked one eyebrow knowingly.

"I'll wait until you're out of kissing range for that, thank you very much," she said as he pressed the button for the elevator.

"You always were a smart one," he smirked at her. "Thinking ahead."

She stepped onto the elevator. "Is that why you love me?" she inquired.

The corner of his mouth upturned. "If you want to hear all the reasons I love you, you're definitely not going to make lunch with my mother."

"How about a rain check?" she asked eagerly.

"As long as you let all this go about what happened at the debate being your fault, we have a deal," he said with authority.

"I'll work on it," she nodded, still feeling dread and guilt any time she thought back to figure out exactly what all had gone wrong. "Do you want me to say hi to your mom for you?"

He stepped off the elevator and kissed her cheek. "No. That would encourage her to call me or something equally time consuming. Just go and do whatever it is you think this will accomplish. And do me a favor and don't say I didn't warn you, no matter what happens."

She rolled her eyes. "You're such a drama queen. It's a lunch with a bunch of society women. What do you envision will go wrong?"

He shrugged his shoulders and held them up for effect for a beat too long. "It's just a fair warning, for your concern. It's like saying 'wear a seatbelt' or 'use sunscreen.' When approached with these kinds of invitations, I always warn 'don't go or suffer the consequences.'"

"I'll be fine. I've dealt with this kind of thing so many times in the past, trust me. Nothing that goes on at lunch will faze me."

"I hope you're right," he said as they parted ways. She went down to exit into the garage to get her car as he made for the street exit. She had faith that of all the things that were going on in her life at the moment, the most predictable would surely be a once-over by his mother at a society lunch.

XXXX

It took her a few minutes to get acclimated, after handing her car over the valet and entering the hall, to pan through the crowd and start to recognize people. The event was full, no doubt, and there were impeccably dressed women all around her, interspersed with waiters in cummerbunds and ties, carrying trays of food that were no doubt tiny and delicious. She accepted a glass of what she assumed was a mimosa, as there was always alcohol at these things regardless of the hour, and took a sip. She was waving politely across the room at a woman she recognized from past DAR gatherings when someone abruptly pulled her by the elbow.

"Rory Gilmore, what are you doing here?"

She turned and smiled. "Oh, hey, Grandma."

"Oh, hey, Grandma? What kind of greeting is that? Why didn't you tell me you would be here? Are you joining the League? Who's sponsoring you?"

Rory blinked at the rapid fire questioning. "Um, no. I was invited, by Annabelle Dugrey, for lunch."

"Annabelle Dugrey invited you to this?" Emily asked, her focus razor sharp and her eyes like that of a predatory animal as she scanned the room of mingling ladies.

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

"I didn't realize you and Annabelle knew one another socially," Emily said, digging for more information without directly asking.

"We don't. I think she might be looking to change that. Have you seen her yet?"

"Why exactly would she suddenly be so interested in getting to know you better?" Emily asked, ignoring her granddaughter's attempt to divert the conversation.

Rory pressed her lips together lightly, in an attempt not to bite her lip or remove her fresh coat of lipstick. "I don't know if that's her intention, exactly. It would just make sense, given recent events."

Emily's face lit up. "Are you dating Tristan Dugrey?"

Rory glanced around at the women, none of whom were paying attention to their little chat, and nodded. "I am."

"That's wonderful news! Oh, Richard will be so pleased. How long have you been seeing him? We should invite him over for dinner, perhaps Janlan too. Annabelle would round out the group, though we did just have the same group at the house not too long ago. But that was before you started dating. It was before you started dating, wasn't it?"

Rory nodded. "Yes, it was. This is recent. I haven't had much chance to catch up with you recently, but we weren't keeping it from anyone."

"I should think not! He is quite a catch. You know, no one thought he'd get married again, after what happened with that first wife of his, but how could he not fall for you?" Emily asked, doting on her only granddaughter.

"No one is discussing marriage," Rory warned. "We just started dating."

"And his mother is inviting you to lunch. It must be serious."

Rory debated internally, the decision to tell her about her upcoming change of address, but figured it would be much easier to drop her a card in the mail. Not to mention less public. "Things are going well," she said, smiling as she thought of their recent, if slightly unorthodox, confessions.

"There's Annabelle," Emily said, keeping a hand on Rory. "I wasn't sitting at her table, but I can manage a switch, if you prefer."

"Grandma, don't be silly. Go sit with your friends," she assured her.

Emily appeared troubled. "Are you sure? I don't want her to try any of that business that Shira pulled. Annabelle Dugrey just recently regained the right to show her face at these things, don't for a second believe that you aren't more worthy of being here than she is, even if you aren't yet a member. And if you need a sponsor, for God's sake, let me know, don't let her do it."

"I understand, Grandma. I get how the whole social hierarchy works."

"Good. She may have been an innocent bystander in her husband's wrongdoings, but she's the one that chose to stay married to that louse. And like it or not, we live and die by our husbands' statuses in this town. She could at least have been less of a doormat about the whole situation. She could have easily remarried."

"Maybe we could put a pin in this conversation? She's coming over here," Rory said under her breath.

"That she is. Annabelle, lovely to see you!" Emily exclaimed graciously.

"Emily! Always a pleasure. Rory, I'm so glad you could come."

Rory smiled warmly, in a far more genuine way than Emily had. Of course, she did want Annabelle to like her whereas Emily would never see her as someone under her in social standing. "Of course. It was so nice of you to invite me."

"I know you're quite busy, with the election so close, but it's all the more reason to get out and enjoy a nice lunch, am I right?"

"It is a nice change of pace."

"Emily, will you be joining us? The tables are full, but I'm sure things could be switched around to accommodate our situation."

"It's a tempting offer, but I should get to my seat. Biffy Heddington spent ten hours putting together the seating chart, and I hear she's low on pills, so I wouldn't dare upset all her hard work now. I'll make sure to catch up with you ladies after the lunch. Rory, it's wonderful to see you."

"Bye, Grandma," she said with a smile before she turned to Annabelle. "Should we take our seats too?"

"We will, in just a minute. Let's finish our drinks, first, shall we?"

Rory glanced into the other room where people were starting to take their seats. "Oh, um, sure."

"So, things with you and my son are obviously going quite well," she began unceremoniously.

Rory stiffened, surprised by the jump so soon. "I guess that would be a fair assessment. I care for your son a great deal."

Annabelle smiled, but it wasn't a nice gesture. "I bet you do. Most women care a great deal for men who put that much money behind the decision."

Rory frowned and did a quick scan of the room again. She felt ambushed suddenly, and would have loved to flag Emily Gilmore back to her at that moment. "What money?"

"There's no need to pretend on my account. I'm sure Tristan's given you specific instructions on what to disclose, but I'm already well aware that he has the money and that he named you as his beneficiary. It would be one thing if you were engaged, but it's a complete slap in the face for him to list someone outside the family. Or has he proposed? I don't see a ring."

Rory's mind raced. "Are you talking about the money that was transferred from his trust?"

"The money that was stolen from my husband and myself," she said with a slight nod. Her tone was cutting, but her volume was low enough that no one was near enough to overhear them.

"I believe that money was family money set aside for Tristan's future, and Janlan had every right to do what he did," Rory began.

"So you do know about the money?" Annabelle pinned her confession.

"Tristan tells me things, and he's entrusted me with a lot of detail about his family. But he certainly hasn't listed me as a beneficiary for anything, let alone that trust money."

Annabelle raised an eyebrow. "Maybe he doesn't tell you everything then. I have good sources, and despite my outward appearances at events like this, I'm still quite connected."

Rory felt a cold chill run through her. "How connected?"

Annabelle smiled the creepy smile again. "I don't like to name drop. But I have good friends, friends that believe in my husband. Of course, a lot of his friends are involved in politics. I believe we have that in common, and we know a lot of the same people. You do know Brockman, the candidate for State's Attorney, don't you?"

Rory's eyes widened. "You were the one that introduced him to your son's ex-wife?"

"She was family once, and she and I really bonded. She was so lonely. It's awful, what some women have to endure from their husbands. All she wanted was to help Tristan climb the ladder, but he took her proactive nature as some kind of treachery. I knew Tristan's ideals were set a little high, but really. I suppose you're scandalized by all that, aren't you? The Gilmores always were full of self-righteousness. I should have known Tristan would fall for a woman like you."

"I think it's best if I skip lunch. I'm suddenly not very hungry," she said, putting her drink down on an empty tray that was passing by with a waiter.

"I wanted the chance to talk to you. Tristan is too hard-headed to see reason. I thought maybe you'd listen. Especially after the debate."

"Are you the connection between Brockman and McKerney?"

"What are you talking about? They aren't connected," she scoffed. "I do play bridge with Mrs. McKerney, but that's hardly a solid connection. It's purely social. Poor thing, though was rather worried about her husband's chances. People do funny things when they're under stress and scared."

"Why would she be scared?"

"I don't like to spread gossip, but they have a lot of debt. They put all her family's money into his campaign bid, and if he doesn't win, they'll be the shame of her family. It's a shame that women in our circles have to put so much faith into their husband's successes. Though I don't suppose you have to worry about such things. Not only are you a career-minded woman, but you have quite a nest-egg set aside for you to fall back on now. My son wants to take care of you. That would be enough for most women."

"I'm leaving now," Rory informed her, too shocked to form any sort of angered response. Tristan wouldn't want her to feed into it all, especially since she was sure some of what she'd heard was lies. The bit about him naming her as a beneficiary was surely a lie to bait her into a reaction. How on earth would Annabelle know that? She was clearly a snake in the grass, playing the victim in her husband's downfall all the while doing her part to get him released.

"Tell my son that it's time for him to start putting family first. He can't let his father rot in jail. We are owed for what has been taken from us, by our own family no less."

Rory just shook her head as she made her exit. She collected her coat and pulled her phone out of her purse. She'd dialed Tristan by the time she was waiting on her car to be brought around by the valet. Her chest burned, as what had actually transpired hit her.

"Hey. Had enough yet?" he asked in a knowing voice, and she could easily envision his self-satisfied smirk.

"Yes. I've definitely had enough. Where are you?" she asked as she handed a tip to the valet and took possession of her car.

"Are you okay?" he asked, as her voice remained tight and restrained.

"I have no idea. But I need to talk to you immediately," she began. "And not over the phone."

"I'm at my grandfather's. We can talk here."

"I'm on my way," she said before ending the call. She turned at the next cross street and headed toward the more upscale residential section of Hartford where his grandfather's home was located. The sooner she could talk to Tristan, the sooner she could get help sorting fact from fiction. Janlan would be a help as well, since this was clearly mostly a family matter as well as a professional one. Annabelle had brought her into the middle of it all, either out of spite or out of desperation, as it was clear her own son wasn't going to be easily swayed to help release his father from jail. Rory had assumed that his mother had stayed married to his father in order to be taken care of, as Janlan had given her money to live on in his son's absence. Emily Gilmore seemed to think that Annabelle would have had no trouble replacing him had she divorced him—and she'd no doubt already have a higher social status by now in that case, if that was her only motivation.

Rory wasted no time in getting to the house and walked directly back to Janlan's study when the maid gave away the men's location upon arriving at the front door. Her shoes clicked with each step, as her heel made contact with the hard wood floors in the house that was quiet, save for whatever conversation was going on behind the closed door. She knocked briefly and didn't wait to be invited in to open the door.

Tristan stood from his perch on a long bookcase and poured her a drink. He handed it to her with a concerned look.

She took the drink and surveyed the room. Three other drinks sat around on the large mahogany desk. "Is someone else here?" she asked Janlan.

"Charles Boyd. He went to make a call, he'll be returning shortly. Tristan said something's happened?"

She took a sip of scotch and glanced at Tristan. "I met with your mother. After I ran into my grandmother."

Tristan grimaced. "They ambushed you?"

"Sort of, but not how you're thinking. They made polite conversation, and then Grandma went to sit at her table in the front, and your mom suggested we hang back a minute. Then she proceeded to tell me all these things about her doing what she could to get her husband out of jail, and her close relationship with Ashley and Brockman and how she was especially angry because she seemed to think that you made me a beneficiary for that five million dollars that you're set to receive," she said, needing an extra drink of scotch after that last admission. She made a face of distaste after she swallowed. "Is it even noon yet?"

"How did she know about the money?" Tristan asked, not aiming his inquiry at Rory, but at Janlan.

Janlan looked completely flummoxed. "It was her? This whole damn time? What, was she playing the victim and lying in wait?"

"I told you, that was exactly why I wasn't going to name her as beneficiary. Any money she got would be money Dad could get his hands on," Tristan said to his grandfather, making it obvious they'd discussed this decision in detail.

Rory paled. "But you didn't… name me, did you?" she asked in a confused awe.

Tristan looked at her appraisingly. "I had to name someone. And he wouldn't let me name him," he pointed at his grandfather.

"I don't need his money," Janlan said wisely. "I've been entrusted with it for too long."

She put her hand to her chest. "Neither do I! Your mother made me sound like a money-grubbing bimbo, out to leech your money."

"I assure you, she was projecting," Tristan said smoothly.

"Is it even legal to name someone a beneficiary of that much money and not tell them?" she posed, still bothered by the whole concept.

"I know the law. And stop acting like it's the craziest thing you've ever heard. We are about to move in together, which means we'll be sharing expenses and combining all our belongings," he pointed out.

"Yes, we're joining our CDs and our books, but not our money!" she contested.

"Perhaps I should let the two of you speak. I'll just go fill Charles in on the update to the situation. Thank you, Rory, for providing us with the link, as painful as the process was for you, no doubt."

She nodded curtly to the older man and put her drink down on the desk to free her arms to cross over her chest as she stared Tristan down.

"I fail to see the problem here," he said as Janlan shut the door. "Other than my mother in general."

She furrowed her brow. "I didn't like hearing about something like that from your mother."

He nodded. "To be fair, I thought only my grandfather and I knew about it."

She pursed her lips. "Were you planning on telling me?"

He nodded again and took a slow, though surefooted, step toward her. "I'm sure I would have gotten around to it. Sort of like you telling me that you love me."

A small smile graced her lips. "It never seemed like there was a good time to tell you."

He leaned in. "Think of how much harder it would be to bring up the five million dollar thing, especially to you. I know you don't want to have to deal with it."

She chewed her lip again. "It's not exactly a burden for me. I mean, unless you die, it's not my money. And I would be the safest person to trust not to kill you just to get the money, since I already told you I wouldn't even know what to do with it all."

"Killing me would be one option to gaining access to the money," he said with a strange expression. "Your mind is a surprisingly dark place."

She tilted her head. "Are you making fun of me?"

He stepped closer and wrapped his arm around her waist. "No. I'm definitely not making fun of you. I'm sorry you had to deal with my mother today."

She shrugged. "I'm sorry she's the one that's trying to blackmail your future just to get your dad out of jail."

He closed his eyes for a brief moment. "I should have guessed. She's been so docile and skittish since he was sent to jail, but if she's anything, it's committed to him. For all their many, many faults and failures, they certainly are devoted to one another."

"So were Bonnie and Clyde," Rory offered.

He smiled. "I thought you were more partial to Romeo and Juliet."

She shrugged. "I'm a sucker for any good love story, even though they all do seem to end with tragedy."

"Just think, if I die, then you get a reward. It's a win-win situation for you," he brushed his lips across her cheek.

"Just for the record, I'd prefer you to not die."

"Ever?" he asked, seemingly unsure as how to pull off that particular feat.

"At least until further notice."

He gave an amused snort. "I can hear it now, our next fight you'll tell me to drop dead. I can see it now."

"See, you have so much to learn. I don't enjoy fighting, so I'm much more likely to go off to Stars Hollow and give you the silent treatment to show my displeasure than wish for your immediate death."

He tightened his grip on her. "Well, I prefer to get things worked out, so expect me showing up in Stars Hollow after our next fight."

She smiled. "Okay."

He nodded. "Okay then. We're good?"

She nodded in kind. "We're good. I mean, as good as to be expected, with your mother behind all this, large sums of money being in play, us needing to figure out where to live, and the election being a few weeks away. Did you get the numbers back?"

He nodded solemnly. "We need to go talk to Jack. We're down seven points. My guess is it'll slide a little further, and then again if we don't do something quick. We only have so many points to play with before we're down too far to bounce back. We aren't graced with time to turn things around, that's what McKerney was counting on. Of course, he's had lots of help figuring out his plan."

"I want to talk to Jack first, alone," she began.

"We go in together."

"Tristan," she began.

"It's non-negotiable. I trust you with everything, except your selflessness. You aren't throwing yourself on this grenade. It's not your fallout."

"I'm not going to quit the campaign," she assured him.

He seemed to believe her, as he let the subject drop. "Good. Have you talked to Robert today?"

She smiled wryly. "Actually, that's the one part of my day that's gone well. I haven't had to deal with him and his weirdness at all."

"Unfortunately, that won't last too long. Come on, let's go talk to Jack," he said as he opened the door to his grandfather's study and led them out to say their goodbyes. They had no time to waste in putting a plan into place for starting to right what had gone wrong now that all the players were known in the game.


	20. Location, Location, Location

Story Title: No Way Back

Chapter Title: Location, Location, Location

Description: Rory Gilmore gets tangled up in the other side of politics, but is she prepared to tangle with all it entails? Not if Tristan Dugrey has anything to say about it.

Rating: M

AN: I enjoyed hearing about who did and did not see the thing with his mother coming. Hope you all enjoy the next installment.

Lorelai wrapped up another plate from the cabinet with a piece of newspaper and stacked it gently in a cardboard box. "What are you going to do with all this stuff?"

Rory shrugged as she carefully continued wrapping some barware. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, Tristan probably has all the same kind of stuff, probably just as nice and equally functional, right? Do you need two full sets of dishes, two living room sets, and two big beds? You don't have to be expansive on your bed needs."

Rory opened her mouth, but closed it shortly thereafter as she shook her head. She put the glass in the box before her. "I have no idea."

"Because you still don't know where you're moving to, right?" Lorelai said with a lilt of humor in her voice.

"We're looking at places. Tonight, in fact."

"I'm just glad you've put so much thought into all this," Lorelai mused.

"Hey, I made my list. And I love him. And all this has to get out of here no matter what happens to it, so let's just pack more and talk less, okay?" Rory said, more than a little on edge.

Lorelai paused and examined her daughter. "You know how when you ask someone how they are, and they say 'fine,' but the way they say it tells you that they are anything but fine?"

Rory scowled. "I guess."

"That analogy pertains to everything you just said. You need to talk. Is this about the debate again? Or the way his mother ambushed you to get to him?"

Rory sighed and took another glass from the cabinet. "We talked to Jack. Together."

"And?"

"And Jack explained that it wasn't just the stuff with McKerney and Brockman that was on his mind the night of the debate. Apparently the mother of his kid got a job offer in France again, and she told him that she's considering taking it. He just started to get to know his kid, and now he might have to start crossing an ocean to see him."

Lorelai made a face. "That's not good news to get."

"Yeah, and she told him right before the debate. She didn't know the timing was that bad, it was all sort of coincidence. So, between that and not knowing that he wasn't going to be called out on his support of Segielman and his distrust of Brockman, it all came together in a bad, bad showing. I apologized for my part in it, and Tristan offered the information that now that we know his mother is the link, it'll get shut down before it can go any further."

"I still can't believe his own mother is doing that to him. Wait, actually, I can believe it. I watched a lot of primetime soap operas in the 80s. This is sort of tame in comparison, but still, what a piece of work she is."

Rory nodded absently and wrapped another glass.

"Is there more?" Lorelai probed at her daughter's quieting down.

"A little," Rory admitted. The bit about the money had been omitted from the first telling of the recent turn of events while they ate dinner and assembled boxes.

"You aren't engaged, are you?" Lorelai put a hand to her chest as she gasped after her guess.

"No! We're just moving in together. No one has discussed marriage. Except, maybe, Grandma," she admitted.

"Did she propose on his behalf? She isn't big on living in sin, it's not dignified or some such nonsense," Lorelai rolled her eyes as she continued wrapping the plates supplied by none other than the family matriarch.

"No one proposed. But Tristan apparently named me as a beneficiary when he took control of the investment that he inherited."

Lorelai's mouth dropped open and she nearly dropped the dish. "He did what?"

Rory attempted to play it cool. "He said that it was a responsibility that comes along with money that substantial, to make sure it will be taken care of it something untimely occurs to him."

"So if he dies, you get five million dollars?" Lorelai asked with shock.

Rory nodded. "That pretty much sums it up."

Lorelai took a moment to wrap her mind around the knowledge. "So, what happens if you die, too?"

Rory frowned. "Excuse me?"

"Well, if he dies, and you die—say you're both in some freak car accident, who gets the money then? You'd leave it to me, right?"

Rory shook her head at her mother. "That's so not how it works. It would probably go to his next of kin. Which, last I checked, isn't you."

"No, but I'm your next of kin. What if you two get married?"

Rory paused, startled. "What?"

"If you two get married, I'd be related to both of you."

"Why do you even want five million dollars? You hate money."

"No, I hate high society functions and snooty socialites. I LOVE money. Money lets you do all sorts of crazy, fun things."

Rory laughed. "And what would you do with the money?"

"I would buy Stars Hollow and make it winter all the time."

"So, you'd create Narnia and become the White Witch of Stars Hollow?" Rory asked warily.

"No, we could still have Christmas. Two, in fact; we could actually have Christmas in July. I'd be a benevolent ruler. And really it would be more like Sephoraland, but with a really big snow machine."

"And you wonder why no one is naming you as a beneficiary to their vast fortunes."

"Please. I have two rather sizeable inheritances coming my way. You know, eventually. I just have to outlive their rightful owners."

"Two? Like Grandma and Grandpa?"

"Rory, come on. They don't keep separate anything, except toothbrushes. Their money is one deal. And I am their only child. When they kick, I will have a giant yard sale to get rid of all their eccentric collections of very rare and expensive items and enjoy my pile of money. I mean, I'll be sad. Very, very sad. They money will barely take the edge off of my grief," she amended as an afterthought.

Rory thought, ignoring her mother's monologue. "Who's the second? Is Luke secretly loaded?"

Lorelai shook her head. "Nope. Chris."

Rory's eyes widened. "Dad is leaving everything to you?"

"He wants to make sure his kids are cared for, so I'm named as sort of the executor to sort it all out, if it would come to that, before your sister turns eighteen. But there is some money set aside, just for me. We were married, and we do share a kid. It's not as weird as your face is making it out to be."

Rory wiped the shock from her face. "Sorry, it just surprised me. I don't think of Dad and Grandma and Grandpa as people who will die and leave me a ton of money. They're my family; I could care less if they leave their money to me or to charities."

"And that's probably exactly why Tristan named you as his beneficiary," Lorelai pointed out.

"Yeah. It was just a surprise. To me and his mother, who was not happy to hear about the money or the fact that she was once again not tied to it at all."

Lorelai nodded and put a plate down in the box. Before she reached for the last plate, she leaned on the open edge of the box. "You know, you said you were just moving in together, like it was no big deal. Except, I know you're agreeing to do this despite the fact that your job might take you to Washington in a few years, and now Tristan's writing you into legal documents," she led.

Rory shrugged. "So?"

"It sounds like you're making long-term decisions with the other in mind. The kind of decisions that people who are thinking about marriage make."

"I'm not going to Washington with Jack," she said quietly.

"You told me before, Tristan wouldn't let you quit."

Rory slowly wound packing material around another glass. "I haven't told him, though I think he suspects. He wouldn't let me talk to Jack alone. At first, I thought it was because he was sure I would quit if he weren't in the room. But while we were in there, talking to Jack, I got the feeling there was a shared knowledge between them, that they weren't letting me in on."

"Like what?" Lorelai asked.

"I'm not positive, but I'm going to meet with Jack tomorrow morning, while Tristan's in a budget meeting, and I'm going to put a time limit on my employment with him."

"What's your expiration date?"

"The minute he sets his sights on a race that would move his staff out of Hartford."

Lorelai looked at once surprised and impressed. "Wow."

"You think I'm making a mistake?"

"No," Lorelai said definitively. "I just didn't realize that Tristan had trumped your career goals."

Rory looked down. "I love my job. I loved journalism. I love being busy and working, and I'll never stop. But I'd rather be committed to Tristan than Jack, if it comes down to it. I can't live in Washington and stay with Tristan."

"So you are thinking about marriage?" Lorelai tied it together.

"I don't care about getting married or the money or where we live. As long as we're together and happy, that's all I want. But that said, this election is not over, and his family is," she trailed off in search of the correct word and shook her head.

"Complicated?" Lorelai supplied. "Your family is no picnic at times, either."

"Even you have to admit, Grandma is a cake-walk in comparison to his mother."

Lorelai nodded. "Yeah. I mean, Mom isn't evil. She means well, on some psychotic, Miss Manners, Emily Post, Soviet Dictator kind of level."

"I think the term is misguided."

Lorelai snorted. "Yeah, I'm sure that's the word you'll use when she asks in a public forum if you're pregnant when you inform her you're moving in with Mr. No-Show Romeo."

Rory rolled her eyes. "He doesn't like that nickname."

"When has that ever stopped me?"

Rory smiled. "I should go change. We're going to see a place soon. He should be here to pick me up any minute. Will you promise not to bring up the money or either of your mothers?"

Lorelai's face scrunched a little, as if perplexed. "Then what will we discuss? You took away all our common denominators."

"Ask him if he's read any good books lately," Rory suggested as she dusted herself off from all the debris from newspaper and cardboard that had collected on her as she'd worked.

"Does he read anything fun? Because I don't want to hear about the plot to some boring book that he finds fascinating," Lorelai complained.

"What books are boring?" Rory asked, not having considered that option.

"I don't know. Legal texts. Anything Luke reads," she shuddered. "Did you know they make books about _Star Trek_?"

Rory rolled her eyes again and went to pick out a clean outfit. "It's amazing that the two of you can live together with no bloodshed," she called out. A knock came to the door and Rory called out again. "Can you get that?"

"Am I allowed to speak?" she checked with raised eyebrows and her hand on the doorknob as she waited for a response.

"Mom," Rory called back, in a warning tone.

"Fine," Lorelai relented, opening the door to a well-dressed Tristan. "Hey. Do you like _Star Trek_?"

Tristan's forehead crinkled as he appraised his greeter with discerning blue eyes. "Um, hello, Lorelai."

"Ignore her!" Rory called out.

He raised an eyebrow at his girlfriend's mother, who had a maniacal gleam in her eyes. "Is something going on that I should know about?"

"She's worried I'll embarrass her."

He smiled. "She worries too much."

Lorelai smiled at him with a sense of camaraderie. "Thank you! I've been telling her that since she was three!"

"I fear the two of you are bonding, and somehow baby pictures are only a moment away from being whipped out of an undisclosed location," Rory said as she appeared in the hallway in a much cleaner outfit.

"You were an adorable baby," Lorelai cooed proudly.

"Look at that, we need to go," Rory said, stepping forward to take Tristan's hand.

"He knows where I live," Lorelai said. "And he's welcome any time. With or without you."

Rory glanced between her mother and Tristan. "See, my worries aren't unjustified."

Lorelai shooed her daughter away. "Go. I'll stay and pack while you find your love nest."

"Mom," Rory chastised again.

"It's not a secret, is it?" Lorelai asked, on the verge of backpedaling.

"Not anymore," Tristan said with a smirk.

"I like you. If I were sixteen years younger," Lorelai winked at him, which made him laugh and Rory groan.

"Let's go, we're going to be late. Thanks for helping, Mom."

"Anytime, Sweetie. Nice to see you, Tristan," she said with full sincerity.

"Lorelai," he said with a nod as Rory pulled him out the door. "What's your rush? I told you before, I like your mom."

"I feel like I should foster this urge to keep you two apart. You tried to talk me out of spending time with your mother."

"Mine was a justified sense of foreboding. You just don't want us ganging up on you and your neurotic tendencies," he said with a pleased smile.

Rory thought that over. "It still feels weird. She hasn't liked most of my boyfriends."

"Perhaps because you seem to tell her everything about your relationships. She knew you loved me before you told me, too, didn't she?"

She ran her teeth over her lip lightly. "Maybe. She was curious after both you and Logan stopped at her house in one night. She assumed it was either a sign of the apocalypse or I was in major relationship chaos."

"Hmmm," he murmured. "She really didn't like Logan?"

"I think part of her liked him least of all the guys I've ever been with, actually," Rory said honestly. "She was afraid I'd change for the wrong reasons to be with him."

He nodded but didn't comment on her answer.

She watched him with interest. "So, what's so special about this place that we have to see it so late? Do realtors even work this late normally?"

"She'll be well compensated for her time. And she's a friend of the family, so she's slightly more accommodating than others might be, given our unusual availability and rush to find something suitable."

"But if a realtor is involved, that means we're looking at a place to buy, not rent, right?"

He nodded. "She does handle lease properties as well, but this is a house for sale. It's difficult, with you and your deductive reasoning. I can't get anything past you."

"Not unless you purposefully keep it from me," she said in a probing manner, hoping he would fess up to whatever he and Jack had clearly discussed without her around.

He didn't pick up on the nudge. "You don't want to buy?"

She shrugged. "My half of a down payment probably wouldn't get us anything more than a studio unit somewhere downtown. A one bedroom if we're lucky."

"This place is big enough for the both of us and isn't downtown. But it's not far from it, either."

She frowned. "I don't think you latched onto the important part of my sentence just now."

He tossed off the implication. "Don't worry about it."

"Tristan," she began emphatically. "I want to do my part."

"I appreciate that. Let's just find a place we both like first, then you can argue with me all you want, okay?"

"It's just, you have a house. I thought if we found a new place, it would be a rental."

He slipped his hand into hers. "I put the house on the market this afternoon."

Her eyes widened. "What? Why?"

"If we're doing this, we should do it right. It's not fair to have you move into a house my ex-wife picked out. We should find something that's ours."

"Oh," she said, feeling a rush of warmth envelop her.

"If you were set on living there," he began.

She squeezed his hand. "No, you're right. If we're doing this, we should do it right."

He smiled. "Good. Come on, we can take my car," he said, steering them out toward the street to his parked car.

XXXX

Rory peered out the window at the house that was looming in front of her under the cover of night. Tristan was largely ignoring the house and was instead watching her for her honest reaction.

"Well?" he asked as he cut the ignition in the front drive.

"It's dark."

"That's called night," he teased her. "I was referring to the house."

She continued looking. "It looks big. And not old, but historic maybe is a better word."

"Is that bad?"

She turned to look at him. "No. Not necessarily, unless it's been sitting empty for a hundred years and doesn't have indoor plumbing."

He smiled. "It has plumbing. And even if it didn't, it would before we moved in."

"I can't really tell much from the outside."

"Curb appeal is important, too," he said as he opened his car door. Rory did the same and they met in front of his car. "Ready to go in? Looks like Anita's already here," he said, gesturing to the fact that there were lights on inside the house.

"At least we know it has electricity," she mused. "Unless it's illuminated with gas lights."

He shook his head at her as they made their way up to the front door and he opened the door for her to enter through. The second she stepped into the entry, she had to admit, the building showed little sign of its age, save for the character in the restored finishes that had been attended to over the years.

"This is nice," he said easily as she continued to take in all the small details and features that most people hope to find while searching for homes. It didn't seem fair that this was the first home they'd seen. Nothing else could possibly measure up in her eyes. Granted she'd only seen the front entry, but it seemed a perfect blend of old and new. She could only imagine the rest of the house would fit the theme.

"Tristan! You found it!"

He took her hand and walked toward the realtor, who seemed all too pleased to be working at such a strange hour, and was dressed in a nice suit as if it were three in the afternoon when normal people would be looking at houses.

"We did, very easily."

"It's a great location. Quiet street, but close to everything, just like you wanted," she said approvingly.

He nodded. "Should we just roam around, then?" he inquired.

"Take your time, come find me if you have questions, okay?" she smiled warmly at the pair.

Rory hesitated as Tristan began taking steps into the first room. "Thank you for meeting us so late."

Anita smiled again. "It's not a problem. Everyone needs a house, even people who have no time to search. Take your time and get a feel for the place. I'll be down here waiting."

Rory rejoined Tristan in a dining room that led into a kitchen. "Do we need a formal dining room?" she asked.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "It could come in handy at some point. We could have people over."

"If we had a dinner party, I'd feel obligated to cook. Surely you can grasp the horror that is involved in that process."

He smirked. "That's what caterers are for. Do you think your grandmother can actually cook?"

Rory conceded to his logic. "Okay, that's a good point."

"You must be tired," he said as they moved onto the kitchen.

"Why do you say that?" she asked as she gaped at the cook's kitchen. "Okay, I don't even know what half this stuff does!" she exclaimed.

"I know what this does," he said as he opened the built-in wine fridge. "I think I remember Anita saying that there's a wine cellar in the basement, too," he commented before opening the refrigerator, which was also built in. "Look at how much take-out that could hold," he teased her.

"You do realize that I'm not going to suddenly spark an interest for all things domestic just because we buy a house that belongs in a magazine, right?" she asked as she pressed a button on the stove that caused a hood vent to pop up out of the counter.

"And you realize that most of the places we see are going to see will have kitchens and dining rooms, right? They're standard rooms in domiciles these days. It's not a conspiracy to get you to learn to cook or invite people over to eat food that you've made."

She considered this as she stopped in front of a large, again built-in, double oven. "Who needs two ovens?"

"It might be useful on Thanksgiving," he offered.

"Again, that implies that we'd be hosting and that I'd be making a turkey and some other side dish that people expected to be edible."

"Should I go back out and tell Anita that we just need some place that's barely large enough to plug in a microwave and a mini-fridge with a bed in the corner?"

She rolled her eyes. "I think that's a little extreme."

"I don't expect anything. But if the house is going invoke some sort of inferiority complex in you, we should just leave now."

She shook her head and crossed her arms, in an attempt to stand her ground. "It's not that I don't like it."

"Do you?" he asked warily.

"I do. Actually, it's great. Do you?"

He nodded. "So far so good. Should we continue?"

She nodded in the affirmative and they continued through to the hall and wound up in a study. More built-ins, this time bookcases. Bookcases that went to the ceiling, some open and some compartments with doors that boasted stained glass fronts. Her jaw dropped open and she spun slowly in a circle, taking in the magnitude of space that she could dedicate to her existing books and those not yet purchased.

"I take it this room will be yours," he said after he cleared his throat.

"Do you think?" she asked as she moved to run her fingers along the shelves. "I've always dreamed of having a room like this. Just for my books. Mom always joked that she was going to have to add a room onto the house after I discovered in high school."

"This is better than under your bed," he commented on where most of her books still resided at her current dwelling.

"There's only so much shelf space in most places. I can't part with my books," she said in defense of her hobby.

"That's why it was on my list," he informed her.

She turned to him. "What list?"

"That I gave Anita. Things we were looking for."

"We?"

"You and I."

"I know who we are."

"You asked," he said as he held up his hands defensively.

"I just meant that we didn't come up with a list."

"You were busy with another list."

She raised an eyebrow. "Just what all was on this list of 'ours?'"

He shrugged. "Just a few things. Location, minimum number of bedrooms and bathrooms, a garage, a library. Indoor plumbing," he joked.

"Funny. What about price?" she offered.

He shrugged again with disinterest. "It wasn't my top concern."

"But it's one of mine," she pointed out as she pointed first to herself and then between them both. "Remember me? The other half of that we?"

"You're making this a much bigger issue than it needs to be. I don't care if you put up half the purchase price or a hundred dollars," he offered.

"I care!" she exclaimed, as her hands went to her chest protectively.

"It'll still be in your name, which means legally," he began.

"Bah! Please, in the future, unless we're discussing work, do not start conversations that involve the word 'legally'," she stipulated.

He stared at her as if she'd lost her mind. "Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously. You and I aren't a matter of legality," she spat out. "And I don't care if the house is half mine in case of whatever eventuality."

"So, you're just arguing for the hell of it?" he asked in partial confusion.

"No! It's just, how I am. I want to contribute. I want to be an equal partner."

"But not legally," he amended.

"Exactly."

"So I should slip my half of the money to you under the table at closing?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"You're not taking me seriously."

"I'm trying, believe me," he said as he looked around the study. "I thought you liked this house."

"I do. It's amazing."

"I have a feeling you're going to say it's less and less amazing the second you find out the asking price. Which, I might add, is a steal thanks to the market."

She bit her lip and felt her stomach tighten. "What is it?"

He shook his head. "I'm not going to tell you."

"Until we've seen the rest of the house?" she probed.

He shook his head again, his blue eyes resigned. "Ever. If you like it, I'm buying it. You can slip a twenty on my nightstand if you must, but whatever house we both like, we're getting it."

She put her hand on her hip. "You can't just do that," she argued again, apparently for the sake of argument.

"You said yourself, I can do whatever I want with my money. And, as a concession, I will tell you that this house does not cost as much as five million dollars, so it's in our price range."

Her consternation would be less had he not been so adamant in his decree. "I should hope not. It's not that nice," she attempted to throw him off.

"You'd be more convincing if you weren't still drooling over the bookcases," he smiled smugly at her. "The use of the word amazing is also telling."

She frowned at him and absently checked her chin with her the back of her hand. "Should we go upstairs, then?"

"After you," he said amiably, despite the fact that his eyes were still set in determination.

XXXX

"You look tired," Robert said appraisingly as he sipped his coffee in the park.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Rory muttered as she huddled in her coat and sipped her hot coffee. "We should start meeting somewhere warmer."

"My place is nice and warm. Flannel sheets," he offered.

She cast him a cutting glare. "I meant like a diner or the library or something."

He shrugged. "I have to try. You never know when a beautiful woman has just had a fight with her significant other and is ripe for the taking. Usually dark circles and an engrained scowl are a signal of trouble in paradise."

"We're fine. Apparently we're buying a house," she said with a belabored sighed.

"The bastard!" he mocked. "Did he do it without telling you or something?"

She shook her head. "No, we saw it last night, and it was perfect. Unbelievably expensive I'm guessing, but perfect," she amended.

"He's good for it," he said flippantly.

"That's not the point! What is wrong with you men? Not every woman wants to find a nice rich man to take care of them. Some of us want more than that. Or less. I don't know why I'm bothering to explain this to you of all people, anyway," she shook her head.

"I don't know either, but you should work on your explanation. It needs some clarification. Are you mad that he's buying you a house you love?"

"I'm not mad. I just wasn't expecting that big of a gesture."

"As in a 'big house to fill with kids' kind of gesture?" Robert asked knowingly.

"It has five bedrooms! Even if we have guest room and an extra office, there's still space."

He smiled. "Are you going to tell him you don't want kids?"

She faltered. "I didn't say that."

"So, you do want kids?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Eventually."

"So what's the problem?"

"I just don't like having to make all these decisions now! We're just dating."

"No, you're moving in together. That implies some level of relationship permanency. That's why I've never let a women stay longer than six hours at my place. Any longer and they start squirreling shit away for future use."

"Really? There are women depraved enough to try to live with you?" she asked with distaste.

He feigned hurt. "Low blow, Gilmore. I'm rich, and that attracts its own brand of female despite my sparkling personality."

She shivered. "It's too cold to discuss the likelihood of your future success at domestic partnership. Can we please just exchange information and get on with it?"

"It's heartbreaking to me that you're wasting yourself on Dugrey. We'd make a much more dynamic duo. Your fastidiousness fascinates me," he complimented her.

"Robert," she scolded with a frown as her breath continued to be visible along with the trail of steam coming up through the opening in her coffee lid.

"Fine. So, the rumor is that now that the link between them has been found out, McKerney won't take Brockman's calls. Our numbers are up after the last round of ads I put out on Brockman's past association with the biggest drug cartels in the northeast, and I have Segielman getting a full makeover for our debate tomorrow. He's been meeting with a top coach to get his charisma up for his delivery. I'm leaving nothing to chance at this point. You might consider a little coaching for Jack," he led blatantly.

She rolled her eyes. "Jack had one off night."

"He's down. McKerney can reach out and touch him."

"It was one off night. We have solid public appearances in key areas before the next debate, and his mind is back in the game."

"Yeah, well, I hope for your sake that's true. Hopefully now that Tristan's talked to his mother, they can keep things a little more in the family and a little less out of Jack's campaign. It certainly scared off McKerney, but from what I can tell he's sort of a little bitch anyhow. Spooks easy at trouble, even though he talks a big game. I guess that happens when your wife holds the purse-strings."

"Tristan hasn't talked to his mother," she said, sticking to that one point.

Robert looked, as ever, amused. "If you say so."

Rory checked her watch. "Damn it. I have to go."

"I'll miss you too," he assured her. "Oh, and one more thing, before we part. Your boyfriend's father wants to meet with me again."

Rory froze figuratively, though she was feeling the effects of the cold in her extremities for sure. It would warm up to a comfortable temperature later on in the day, but in the barely dawn hours, it was still quite cold outside. "Since when?"

"His lawyer called last night. It seems in everyone's best interest for me to go, don't you agree?"

She nodded. "Unfortunately, I do, but I need to talk to Tristan first. And you're going to have to be professional when you and he meet to go over strategy."

"Whoa, that is a lot of stuff I don't care to do, all of what you just said there. Remember I'm doing you a favor?"

"Yes, and if you hope to get a lasting position out of this, you'll play by my rules. I have sway with Jack," she said, not adding the fact that it was just a temporary assignment at that moment. She was off to have that very conversation with Jack, and then she'd have to discuss both Tristan's conversation with his mother and the purchase price of their dream home. She could already feel a headache stirring just above her left ear.

"You're a little dominatrix," he said with glee.

"I'm in a hurry and I don't appreciate all your snide attempts to undermine my authority. If you're talking to Tristan's dad, you're going in there on our side, with full disclosure between you and Tristan. Otherwise, you'll politely decline the offer. Got me?" she barked, the passion in her words nearly warming her up despite the outside elements.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, partially deflated. "But I'm only agreeing out of sheer curiosity. I'm a sucker for family drama. Even if it's not mine."

She shook her head. "And on that pleasant note, I have a meeting with Jack. I believe you have a candidate at the beauty salon, don't you?"

"Hey, it takes work to look this good," he defended snidely as presented his tailored and coiffed appearance. "And money helps."

"Yeah, I've heard that," she said as she gave him a partial wave and took off for the office, her pace quick to counter the cold.

XXXX

"I'm going to be straight with you, and I need you to be straight with me," Rory said as she sat across from Jack in his office.

"Sounds fair," he said in a leading way, as if he were expecting some more bad news.

"Did Tristan arrange some kind of deal on my behalf?" she asked.

Jack paused. "What kind of deal?"

"To assure my status."

"What's wrong with your status?" Jack questioned.

Rory paused, feeling the need to tread lightly despite her desire to get things straight in her own mind. "He was afraid I might step down and I got the impression he might have attempted to safeguard my job."

"Your job has never been in jeopardy. Are you going to quit?" Jack asked, his eyes widening as the possibility occurred to him.

"I'm … curtailing my tenure."

"Rory, it's early. I've had a long night. Let's just try some straight talk that you requested, shall we?"

"Okay. I'm staying with you as long as you stay in Hartford. If you want me that long."

He took in her meaning. "You want to stay local."

She nodded.

"You're sure?"

"Yes. I've given it a lot of thought. At that point, I'll look for another local campaign, or maybe segue back into reporting."

Jack nodded. "New York is a doable commute," he said.

"It is. Nothing's set in stone."

"Except your decision to stay in Hartford," he reminded.

"Right."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

He nodded. "I knew it was a possibility. He'll want you on his team anyhow," Jack informed her.

"Who, Tristan?"

He nodded. "It's logical."

"Like I said, it's not because of that."

"You don't need to apologize to me. Even if it were the case."

She nodded, taking it in. "Did he? Try to make a deal?"

Jack sighed. "He made it clear that he knew the ramifications of a hit to our campaign if things got worse. Things aren't at a point where anyone needs to take blame. I had a bad night."

"Has she accepted that job?"

Jack nodded. "Yep. I'm considering petitioning for joint custody. I know with the distance she won't be willing to comply so easily, and I didn't want this to get messy, but apparently custody issues are never easy."

"I guess as long as it's worth fighting for, that's all that matters," Rory offered sagely.

"Well, I hope we both can take some solace in that, then," he sighed. "You should take a nap. You look like hell."

She smiled wearily. "That's the best suggestion I've heard in a long time. I'll see you later."

"Does Tristan know you and I are having this chat?" he asked.

She shook her head. "He'd probably have blocked my entrance to your office if he knew. My career has been a sticking point for us. He's been adamant on my going with you to Washington, like it was some path I had to follow."

"Should you change your mind, let me know. A lot can happen in four years," Jack said.

She nodded. "Yeah. It can," she said before she left his office. She went to the nearest surface she could think of to lie down on and let herself into Tristan's office. She kept the light turned out and closed her eyes as she reclined down on the couch cushions. She drifted off to sleep as she pondered just why Tristan had been so hell bent on her going to Washington if he intended to stay in Hartford, especially since he was so set on buying a house for them to live in together. She couldn't have everything she wanted; life didn't work that way. She'd had to make a decision, and so did he. She just hoped they were truly on the same page when it came to the future that was being pieced together.


	21. A Day in the Life

Story Title: No Way Back

Chapter Title: A Day in the Life

Description: Rory Gilmore gets tangled up in the other side of politics, but is she prepared to tangle with all it entails? Not if Tristan Dugrey has anything to say about it.

Rating: M

AN: The end is (finally) in sight. This isn't it, but it is an update, which has been a while in the making. I've been distracted lately, as shows have come back from their hiatus. I figure a few more chapters, to tie up some loose ends, and the ending is forming in my head, so consider this a heads up. On with new fic.

"What are you doing?"

Rory woke to the voice of her boyfriend, on whose couch she'd fallen asleep. It was disorienting, as she'd spent the better portion of her nap dreaming of him, and it took her a moment to distinguish her dream boyfriend from her real boyfriend that was calling her out of her sleep. When she pried open her eyes to see Tristan fully dressed in a suit and tie and a slightly annoyed look on his face, she instantly closed them to attempt to recapture the much preferred dream version. It was futile, though certainly worth the effort.

"Go away, just let me sleep five more minutes," she urged, trying to turn into the couch to aid her swift return to her dream.

Instead of pandering to her wish, he sat down on the arm of the couch, just over her head. "You weren't in bed this morning, so I assumed that you were upset, but I didn't think you'd taken up residence in my office. This is where I go to be alone and think."

"No, this is where you go to work, which is why I took a nap here. I got up early while you were still asleep because I had work to do. Once it was done, Jack told me to take a nap, so I did. And I'm not done."

"So this isn't about the house?"

She groaned and sat up. "If you want the house, then buy it."

He stood up and paced over to the middle of the room before turning and shaking his head in frustration. "I'm not buying that house for me."

She blinked. She felt as if there were cobwebs in her brain and sleep still in her eyes. "I thought you liked it."

"I like it for us," he said meaningfully.

"Okay," she began warily. She got the feeling he was growing tired of something concerning her and her lack of zeal when it came to house hunting. "I like the house. I told you that."

He laughed, but there was a biting tone underneath it. "I'm not sure what that's even supposed to mean."

She paused and eyed him carefully. "What did you say to Jack?"

He furrowed his brow. "What?"

"I went in and told Jack that I was only staying with him as far as his governorship, and I asked him what was going on between the two of you, and I don't think he told me the full extent of whatever you two discussed without me."

"You told him what?" Tristan asked, clearly upset by her actions.

She straightened up and did her best to tend to her hair. "You heard me."

"Why would you tell him that?"

"Because I'm staying in Hartford. Remember, we're moving in together and buying a house, apparently," she said with upturned palms.

"What is wrong with you? You act like you don't want to buy a house, even though you say you want to live with me, and you want to contribute to half a payment, but then you quit your job?"

Rory braced herself for the fight. "I didn't quit. I told him I was staying local."

"But you want to go to Washington."

"No, you and everyone else said that's where I'd end up, if I stayed with Jack."

"You can't turn down a chance to work for the President of the United States," he said emphatically.

"I already did," she said simply, playing off his fervor.

"Go tell him you changed your mind. He wants you on staff now and even more so in four years."

"How could you even know that?"

"Because that's what we talked about," he said, lowering his gaze for a moment before meeting her eyes again.

"What?"

"I thought you were going to quit, so I went in to assess the situation. We talked about the fallout from the debate and any future hits we might encounter. I asked him about your position on his team, and he told me he wants you in Washington. He never expected to have me past Hartford as his campaign manager, and so when I leave, it won't be harmful to his plan."

"When you leave," she began.

"I'm stepping down to start practicing law after the election," he informed her.

"But you were supposed to stay on staff during his incumbency," she said immediately, as if to correct him.

He nodded. "That was before."

"When were you going to tell me?"

"I'm telling you now. If I'm going to run, I need to go back to law and segue back from there. Even if I don't run," he began hesitantly.

"Then what?"

"Then I've already caused enough flux to Jack's campaign. With my family issues and now swaying your decision to leave. It's not in his best interest."

"You've never asked me to stay for you, I made that decision on my own," she reminded him.

"I'm never going to put you in the position to have to choose between your career and me."

Her eyes went wild as her mind raced ahead. "Then why go through all this about moving in together? Why even suggest buying a place together?"

He stared at her quizzically. "I thought that's what you wanted."

"To move in together and then have to leave everything to go to Washington without you?"

"You don't understand. I'm not saying I'm bowing out of the equation. I'm saying you can have both."

"No, I can't. I can't be in two places at one time. Don't you get that? If I'm in Washington, then I'm not here."

"We can split our time, we can figure it out," he argued. "We have four years to figure it out."

"No, I don't want that. I want to be with you, and not just some of the time," she said, realizing for the first time why Logan had declined her offer to do long distance after she turned down his proposal. "If you buy that house, I'm not going to Washington."

He appeared to have had the wind taken out of his sails. "You told me you need to keep working. If I buy that house and you quit working, you're going to start blaming me. There is no solution here, if you insist on limiting things."

"I'm limiting things? I'm being realistic. I can only live in one place. I can't buy something I can't afford. It might not be how you view the world, but I can't just live thinking that everything will be there for my taking."

"You think this is about money?"

"So far your answer for things is to throw money at them. I need a place to live, you're set to buy a house. Is that what you'd do, if I moved to Washington? Buy another house that you won't live in?"

"Who exactly do you think you're having this fight with?" he demanded. "Someone who plied you with jewelry and gifts and expected you to give him all or nothing, or the guy that is trying to be supportive of your career?"

"What's that supposed to mean? What jewelry?"

"Where'd you get the pearl earrings you wore to the luncheon the other day? Or that diamond bracelet you wore two weeks ago when we went out to dinner?"

She flushed. "Can we please have one conversation without bringing Logan into it?"

"I'd love that. If you realize that I'm not him, that would be tremendously helpful."

"I don't want to be with Logan! I want to be with you, but you're insistent on pushing me to go Washington without you, and I don't see why!"

"Because I want you to be happy. But maybe that's just asking too much," he said, taking the opportunity to leave his own office. She sat back, in shock, on his couch. All the other pressing matters she'd needed to discuss with him faded away as she tried to piece together exactly what it was they couldn't seem to agree upon. It didn't take her long to realize that she needed to show him what it was that she wanted, in no uncertain terms.

XXXX

"This is lovely," Emily Gilmore ranted as she stepped into the formal sitting room.

Rory smiled as she continued in step behind her grandmother. "I thought you'd like it."

"I'm so pleased you're looking at homes. And it's smart, getting a second opinion from someone who knows the market. I'm sure your realtor is qualified, but you can never be too careful when it comes to large investments. And you must have an inspection done."

Rory nodded. "I will. I just need to secure the financing first."

Emily smiled knowingly. "I already told you we'd be happy to help you buy your first home. Whatever you need, we're happy to give you."

"Lend," Rory corrected. "It's just a down payment. I have some of it already saved."

"But you should save some of your reserves. You need some cushion, just in case."

Rory shook her head. "I'm not worried about that."

Emily paused appraisingly. "Is Tristan giving you half the money?"

Rory bit her lip. "No. I'm doing this on my own, for now."

Emily paused to think again. "Your mother mentioned that you were considering moving in with him. And this house is rather large for just you."

Rory took a deep breath and looked around the lovely home. "I'm trying to make a point."

Emily nodded. "It does make quite a statement."

"I don't expect you to understand what I'm doing. And if you say no, I would completely respect that."

"Nonsense. I trust you. If this is the house for you, then I will write you a check."

Rory hugged her grandmother. "Thank you. I really appreciate this."

Emily prodded her. "Make the call. Get your house before someone else does!"

Rory pulled out her phone and began dialing. There was one problem solved, she hoped. If only the others she needed to deal with were as easily handled.

XXXX

"No."

"Tristan, come on. Just consider it," Rory began, standing in front of his desk. It had been six hours since their encounter in the same room, and since his return they'd not spoken of any of their personal matters in regard to them; only his reluctance to have Robert meet with his father as it pertained to the upcoming election.

"It's a bad idea."

"What did your mother say?" she pressed, acting on the hunch that Robert had known more than she did about that particular situation.

His cool blue eyes met her discerning ones. "Robert told you?"

She nodded, holding back her displeasure at how she'd discovered the information.

"I told her that if she came near you again, I'd make sure she was much worse off financially than just being disconnected from my money."

Rory paled slightly. "You threatened your own mother?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I don't want her coming near you. I also don't want Robert buddying up to my father. He's staying in jail, and that's the end of their attempt to spring him. Brockman will have to spin another angle, because I'm certainly not waiting to see where he and Ashley are registered."

"If we don't keep a close eye on Robert, he could go on his own," she hinted.

He gave her a bored look. "All the more reason to have kept him out of the situation to begin with."

"Are we back to that? Or are you just looking for a way to keep picking a fight with me?"

He put his hands on his desk and pushed himself up to stand. "I would love to stop fighting with you. Are you done trying to do exactly the opposite of everything I say?"

"We need to get this settled. Robert's agreed to meet with your dad tonight. We don't have much time to go over things."

"Rory, just let him go. He can say whatever he wants, but now that my mother is afraid of my grandfather cutting off all her money supply, they're shut out. We have actual work to do," he pointed out.

"I just gave Jack his speech to start going over for tomorrow morning. As of tomorrow, everything will go back to being focused on Jack. But I think it's important that we clear a few things up tonight. First, we meet with Robert. Then I'm taking you out to dinner so we can get a few other things straight. I'm not taking no for an answer on either thing."

He folded his arms over his chest. He looked almost amused, though she could only imagine that she was frustrating him at her steamrolling. "Fine."

She paused. "Really?"

"At this point, I'll settle for either of us agreeing with the other on anything. Even if it involves talking to Robert."

"Dinner will be nice," she promised.

"It'd better be. And I expect dessert afterward."

She flushed slightly, knowing he wasn't talking about food. It was the first real indication he'd given her that all was not at a total impasse between them. She stepped around the side of his desk. "We have a few minutes before we need to meet with Robert."

He raised an eyebrow. "Is this some kind of sneak preview?"

She shrugged one shoulder in a playful manner. "There's been a lot of discord," she said.

He barely nodded, but he kept his attention on her and her change of attitude. "There has been."

"Things have been tense," she said in a regrettable tone.

He swallowed as she took a step closer, coming to stand against his knees. He looked up at her. "Yes."

"We should go to Robert as a united front," she said as she slid her bottom onto his lap, letting her legs dangle over the side of his. One hand went to loosen his necktie as she gazed into his eyes.

"It would be best," he agreed as he slid one hand up her back.

She smiled as she leaned in and kissed him. "I don't want all this other stuff to come between us. Work. Your family."

"Nothing's between us right now," he noted as he slid his other hand up under her skirt.

She kissed him, taking her time and not offering to push it to the extremes. She wasn't feeling playful, though she knew it was how he was reading her behavior. This was much more needful than she was letting on, fueled by her impulsive actions earlier in the day. She wanted this to work, the relationship that had formed between them. She knew it would be easy to let herself keep getting in the way. They seemed to have different ideas about how to move forward, but she hoped to show him that she was willing to give it all she had.

"Did you lock the door?" he asked between kisses.

She smiled into their next kiss. "Of course."

He leaned just out of reach of her seeking lips. "So, you planned this?"

Her mouth formed a pout after the missed contact. "What?"

He appeared to have had an epiphany of sorts. "You're working me."

"I am not! I'm trying to have a moment alone with my boyfriend."

"At work. Before meeting with Robert. About my dad. You're trying to use sex as a way to placate me."

Her mouth dropped open. "I'm offended."

"You're saying you only wanted to have sex with me to relieve the tension between us, and not at all to get me in a more agreeable mood before this meeting?"

She hesitated, hating that he had her. "Why can't it be about both?"

He eased her up off his lap. "Let's just get this over with."

Rory frowned and straightened her skirt. "That's not the kind of thing a girl likes to hear."

He cut her a disproving look. "I'm talking about Robert. I'll have my way with you later. Without your little agenda."

She couldn't help but feel a little thrill at his words, even if it wasn't how she'd intended their interaction to pan out. "Robert's doing this for you."

He shook his head. "I forget how naïve you can be sometimes. Robert has never done anything for anyone unless he thought it was beneficial to him in some way, even just for his own amusement."

Rory smiled. "He may have mentioned that he was only doing it to witness the family drama. Robert's a pawn here, a source. Nothing more."

"There is no more drama. It doesn't matter what my dad wants. No one's willing to back him and his supposed change brought about by the prison's ability to reform him to aid his early release, and my mother knows that if she makes one false move, she's out of my grandfather's pity money. She doesn't want to risk losing that line of income. It's all that's keeping her in her house and from having to be out looking for a menial job. Being a trophy wife doesn't provide for marketable skills."

Rory crossed her arms. "Why hasn't Janlan cut her off? Surely he doesn't approve of her behavior."

He sighed. "She's still family. My grandfather is particularly hardheaded when it comes to family values."

She nodded as they made for the door. Before he unlocked it, she put a hand to his chest. "So, is he as put off by the idea of our moving in together as my grandmother is?"

He smiled. "You told Emily?"

She bit her lip. "It sort of slipped out."

He nodded knowingly. "Do you ever regret being so honest and forthright all the time?"

"I can keep secrets," she argued.

"Sure you can. Maybe it's best that you don't go to Washington, after all."

"Now you don't want me to go?" she asked, surprised at the ease with which he let those words fly.

He put a hand to her cheek, gently rubbing his thumb over her skin. "I never wanted you to leave me."

"Then why put up the fight about my telling Jack I was limiting my tenure?"

"I told you. I don't want you to give up your life to be with me."

"You said I could have it both ways. I want my life to be with you," she admitted, looking up at him through her lashes.

"And you don't think that will change in the next four years?" he asked, the space between them charged as he waited for her answer.

"I don't."

"You sound sure," he said, as if searching for underlying doubt.

"I'll show you how sure I am, after we meet with Robert. We'll make sure everyone's on the same page, I'll pledge my undying devotion to you, and then when we get to work in the morning, everything will be sorted out and we can get back to making sure Jack is elected."

He chuckled softly. "I was right before. You are naïve. But you're damn cute when you're all idealistic. It's almost contagious."

She patted his chest. "Get on board. It's smooth sailing from here on out."

He held back a smile. "And now I'm starting to think you're just delusional."

XXXX

Tristan paced in Robert's office, and Rory sat, watching him anxiously after Robert finished giving them the update from his father's lawyer.

"Do you see now?" Tristan asked Rory, who flinched at his volume and the fact that she realized that she had been delusional in her attempt to be optimistic, at least in regard to his family.

She furrowed her brow, not having an answer for Tristan, and turned back to Robert. "Why me?"

Robert smirked. "The man's in prison. I'm sure conjugal visits only go so far. He's bored and starved for new attractive females, and he knows his son has good taste. At least, that's my best guess."

"See, he gave you a compliment," Rory said to Tristan, who scowled at his companions.

"Actually, I was speaking for the old man. While I appreciate what I know of Dugrey's taste in women, I think he's far too discriminating. Especially since I know that Ashley flew in under his radar."

Tristan continued to glare at Robert, and Rory sighed heavily. "So, I'll go and talk to him."

"Over my dead body," Tristan said from behind her, not even causing her to turn to look at him.

"Robert is, unfortunately, probably right. He's probably bored and wants to mess with me a little. I'll go, find out his deal, and it's over."

"Exactly, he wants to mess with you. He's losing ways to get to me, and since Mom tried and failed, he wants his shot. He knows about the money and so he knows that we're not just dating. You're not going."

"What are you afraid he'll do to me? Scare me off? Get me talking?"

"Or worse, he'll realize that you think that there's a shred of decency in all humans," Robert supplied.

Tristan pointed at Robert. "That. As much as I hate to agree with Robert, who might I add, has no decency, is exactly what I'm afraid of. I love that you see good in people and that you work hard and you want the best for me, but I need you to accept that my parents and I have parted ways. There is nothing left to mend. He needs to stay in jail and you do not need to talk to him."

Rory paused in thought. "You really don't want me to go?"

Tristan nodded. "I really don't want you to go."

"Wait. You're still going, though, right?" Robert asked Rory.

Rory shot him a withering glare. "No. If Tristan is set against it, then I'm going to respect that."

"If I might interject," Robert said as he stood up. "I get that you two are in love and trying to be kind and gentle and respect the other's needs, but your father is not going to just sit back and let the opportunity pass. Parole only comes around every so often, and the man is tired of jail. I can't be the only person that sees that."

Tristan made warning eyes at Robert. "He has fewer avenues to explore this way."

"But he's not shut down. He's in prison, he's not dead."

"Well, then he hasn't pissed off the right people yet," Tristan muttered. "Can we go now?"

Rory put her hand on his arm. "Wait for me in the car. I just have one last thing to go over with Robert, and we can go to dinner."

"I'm fine waiting here," Tristan said, retaining his stance.

Rory widened her eyes and gave her most hopeful expression. "Please? It'll just be a second."

Tristan noticed Robert's smirk just beyond his girlfriend's lovely, if cloying, face. "I get the feeling I'll regret this," he said in a low tone as he stepped forward and kissed her cheek. "But I won't, right?"

"Absolutely not. Just a little shop talk," she promised.

He nodded, still not convinced, and took his leave of the office. Rory turned to Robert and raised an eyebrow. "Did he really ask for me?"

Robert nodded evenly. "He really did. Apparently I wasn't his favorite sparring partner. Word is he prefers sassy brunettes. I never did consider myself sassy."

"Did he say why me?"

Robert pointed to the door. "Tristan probably hit the nail on the head. He wants leverage, and you being the woman that his son is not only sleeping with, but moving in with and set to inherit his fortune in the case of his untimely demise, he figures you're his best shot. If he can find a weak spot through you, he'll use it."

"I can't go," Rory said with a sigh, but her mind still turning. "Unless we knew of a reason that I had to. If we knew exactly what he was up to, maybe, then I'd have to meet his demands to shut him down. I don't want him acting in retaliation of my avoidance or anything."

Robert smiled in a pleased, if not slightly creepy, manner. "I will do what I can. You will be at stump stops all weekend?"

Rory nodded. "Just text me. Not Tristan. I'll talk to him, when we know more."

"I'm sure he takes these annoyances better from you when you're naked than he ever would from me, whether or not I were clothed at the time of delivery."

Rory smiled. "He's going to be very happy later. I have a surprise for him."

Robert groaned. "Ugh, you monogamist types. What is it, a romantic candlelight dinner? God, you're not spawning are you?"

Rory smacked his arm. "No! I bought the house."

"You bought the house? The one he wants to fill with kids you don't want?" he uttered in surprise. "Jesus, what is the draw of the Dugrey men? It can't just be the money. Is it the judge thing? It has to be power related, because he's not that attractive."

"I love him. He wanted me to show him that I was on board."

"So you bought the house? On what, the promise that he'd spot you the money?"

"I have some money. And access to the rest of what it takes to get the house," she defended. "Tristan hasn't put any money into this yet. This is a gesture."

"This is insanity. But I never did understand you couple types. Go, have your romantic dinner. Make googly eyes at one another and make promises that are impossible to keep, like undying love and never-fading lust."

She eyed him carefully. "I'm always at a loss at whether or not you need a therapist or a hooker."

He smirked. "I tend to scare off both, actually."

She nodded. "That sounds about right. Have a good evening, Robert."

"Enjoy your boring couple sex," he called out as she left his office.

"I will!" she assured him as she shut his door.

XXXX

They walked along the quiet residential street, her having had him purposely park at the opposite end of the neighborhood from their new home. His arm was wrapped easily around her waist, and she leaned into him slightly as they walked along in the moonlight.

"Thank you for backing down, about meeting with my father. The idea of you and him in a room," he shuddered the tiniest bit.

"You don't think he's going to lash out in some other way, do you?" she asked.

"I'll handle that if it comes down to it. It's not something you need to worry about."

She nodded as they walked along the sidewalk in the crisp air. She couldn't wait to get their destination. "I have a surprise for you," she began as they rounded the block to their new street.

"Yeah?" he asked, his tone happy. It was music to her ears, after all the strained voices and fighting they'd been engaging in of late. Even the simplest of conversations had turned into debates.

"Yeah. I know you think I can't keep secrets, but I've been keeping this one most of the day."

"A whole day, huh? Must be big," he teased.

"It's pretty big."

"Bigger than a bread box?"

She nodded as he continued in a playful vein. "Bigger."

"Bigger than a car?" he continued.

"Even bigger."

He slid his tongue under his lip in thought. "Bigger than a house?"

"You're getting warmer," she said emphatically as they reached their destination.

He stopped when she did and caught her gaze. "You didn't decide you wanted to buy the house, did you? The MLS changed, the sale's already pending, I checked online after lunch," he informed her.

Her smile brightened. "I know."

He stared at her for a moment. "So you didn't want the house? Why are we here, then?"

"No, I do want the house. So much so that I'm the one that's buying it."

"What?" he asked, stunned to stillness.

"I put in an offer, and it was accepted."

"How?" he asked, not seeming as happy as she'd anticipated.

"The usual way, I guess. The realtor had me sign some paperwork."

"I mean, where did you get the money? Even for the down payment?"

She shrugged. "I used my money. And my dad gave me a little. He's always trying to give me money, so I asked him for a loan. And my grandmother pitched in."

He tensed. "I had this."

"I wanted to show you I was on board."

"But cutting me out?"

"No! By securing it. For us."

"You mean for you. With help from other people."

"The house is for us, and I will pay my dad and my grandmother back eventually."

"Where do I fit into all this?" he demanded.

She gaped at him and his hardheadedness. "The house is for us."

"So, I'm supposed to pay you my half like a landlord every month?"

"Isn't that what I would have done, if you'd just bought the house?" she turned it around on him.

"No! I would have put the whole amount down. You wouldn't have owed me anything," he said, shaking his head. "You signed contracts, and there are legal papers involved. I haven't brushed up on real estate law in a while, but maybe I can get Anita to retroactively add me to the sale and I can pay back your relatives before it goes into escrow. Did anyone co-sign for you?"

She crossed her arms. "I was trying to do something nice. I got the house, I don't need you to save me here."

"Legally speaking," he began.

"Stop right there," she cut him off.

"No, this time you're going to listen to me. If this is going to be our home, it's going to be in our names, with our money."

"But if you buy the house," she began.

"Then it's ours, meaning that both our names are on the deed. My money will be your money, nothing will be separate."

"You're not just talking about just moving in together," she said, feeling slightly dizzy and sick to her stomach all at once as a wave of realization hit her.

"No, I guess I'm not," he consented.

She faltered for words as she searched his face for signs that he was just teasing her. It only took her a moment to realize he was serious. It wasn't the first time they'd talked about a greater shared future, but it was still a big concept to be suddenly putting into action. "But, you don't mean… I mean, you can't want," she led without success. "Isn't it too soon? Everyone keeps saying that a lot can happen in four years. We've only been together a few months," she said, holding her hand to her chest, as if trying to calm her heart.

He put his hands on her arms and leveled his gaze. "I just want you to know what I'm thinking. But I guess it's good to know what you're thinking too," he said with less satisfaction.

Her expression softened. "It's not that I haven't thought about it. But the election isn't even over yet. There's so much going on," she explained.

"I don't want to put off our lives because of work or drama my family is trying to inject my life with. I want to move forward with you, on our own time."

"Maybe we can agree to get settled in the new house before we discuss anything else, though. We can't ignore work and our families, as nice as it might sound some days."

He nodded and looked to the house. "I can't believe you bought the house out from under me."

She slipped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest as they both focused on the house. "Can Anita really add you into the sale?"

"Is that okay with you?" he asked.

"I guess it makes more sense. I wasn't looking forward to Sunday brunch with Grandma for the next twenty years."

"I'd much prefer to spend Sunday mornings in bed with you," he said, kissing her hair.

"That sounds nice. We could spread out the Sunday paper on the bed."

"We could—but we'd probably just get covered in newsprint," he mused.

"Then we can fill up that big tub and get clean," she said, playing along with his vision.

"It's a good house."

"It's why I bought it."

"We could be there for a while," he added.

She inhaled and held the breath for a second. "We could."

"You're thinking about it?" he asked after another pause.

"It's been hard not to," she admitted.

"And these thoughts, are they good ones?" he inquired.

She smiled. "Yes. They are."

He smiled in return. "Good."

"We should go. Tomorrow's going to be busy."

"Right. We'll have plenty of time to think about things later."

She nodded and slipped her arm back through his as they walked back down the block toward his car.

XXXX

"So, you're what, pre-engaged?" Lorelai asked over the phone that night.

"No."

"But he wants to be?"

"It sort of sounds like it."

"And you want to be?"

"Maybe."

"Rory. You bought the man a house. You agreed to have Sunday brunch for the foreseeable future with 'Six-Inch-Tapers' Emily Gilmore to buy said house. If you don't want to marry him, why bother?"

"He's going to try to get me out of the brunch. He wasn't exactly so pleased that I bought the house without him."

"Well, it makes no sense, financially. The tax write off of him buying it outright alone makes it insane to go about it the way you did. But nice job, getting financing for a down payment that big in under an hour. Did you play the guilt card with Chris?"

"No! I simply asked for a loan. He's my father, and he's loaded. It wasn't that big a hardship for him. What do you know about tax write-offs and real estate?"

"I've been around a lot longer than you. And Luke, not to mention my father, blathers on about these things. We are land owners, not to mention business owners. We're not just two random yokels, despite the public we serve."

"I just didn't expect Tristan to be anything but happy. But he got all serious and annoyed and switched to lawyer mode then he delved into super-serious relationship talk. I was prepared to take this one step at a time, and he's leaping over me and dashing for some finish line I can barely see."

"So, he's dropped the whole thing about you moving to Washington?"

"I don't know. He doesn't want me to limit myself."

"It is a positive quality to find in a man," Lorelai acknowledged.

"At first I assumed he thought it could be an easy out for us. Now I think he honestly believes that I can do it all, which is frankly a lot of pressure."

"You are the Queen of Multitasking."

"I'm the Queen of Botched Gestures."

"Hey, you're still moving into the house. And apparently thinking about getting married."

"I'm thinking about what his father is so keen to meet with me about, and if Jack will be back to his best tomorrow at the stump speech. We have so little time left, and I need to be focused on work."

"Is that why you're not spending the night with your soon-to-be fiancé?"

"We have to be at different places at different times tomorrow morning before the appearance, and we both had prep work to do, so it just made sense to go back to our own places."

"Soon you'll be going back to the same place, no matter what."

"And soon Jack will be elected, and Tristan will be working for a law firm. Everything will be very, very different."

"But that's just how life is. It moves forward."

"Yes, but does it have to move quite so rapidly?"

"Do you want to get married?"

Rory bit her lip. "I want to be with him. The idea of getting married sort of gives me hives, but the idea of being married to him actually sounds kind of nice. Do you think you and Luke will get married?"

"Hey, no comparisons. Every relationship is different. Luke and I have been down that path, and what we have right now is good. It also took us eight years to start dating. You two have been together a few months have already dropped more money than some countries' GNP on a house to live in together. Besides, Luke and I are just two divorcees, shacking up. You two are young, urban professionals who still have time to procreate little Yuppie babies and get a nanny so you can still go out and look like people who don't actually have babies."

"Babies?" Rory yelped.

"Oh, dear. If you're not ready to discuss marriage, I guess babies are off limits, too, huh?" Lorelai cringed against the receiver.

"Why can't everyone just be happy for us, at the stage we're at? Isn't moving in together enough for now? Why is everyone in such a rush to marry us off and start having babies? What's after that, asking when we're going to die?"

"Only the people in line for the five million."

"It'll be less than that. We did just buy a house."

"Right, right. Well, I'm sure your future judge will earn some money to make up for the loss you incurred today. Though real estate is just another investment, so theoretically the money is still there and earning you a return."

"I think we'll survive, either way."

"You say that now, but you haven't seen how much your property taxes will be. Trust me, you want him to keep earning the big money. The first time you open your mailbox and find that treat waiting on you, you won't be pleased. It's expensive to even breathe in certain neighborhoods in Hartford."

"Speaking of mailboxes, did the town come to a decision?"

"Oh, yeah. They're installing the stupid lockboxes next week. But I have a feeling they won't last."

"Mom, what are you planning to do to the lockboxes?"

"Me? Nothing. Why do you ask?"

"I seem to remember the bells not lasting very long after they were restored. You were quite mum about how those got broken. And there was a rumor that you and Luke were seen sneaking into church the night they stopped."

"We got married?" Lorelai offered weakly.

"Sure you did. Just don't get arrested before the election, can you at least do that much for me?"

"You have my word. As long as you don't get married without telling me."

"I'm not even engaged!" Rory said crossly.

"Yeah, well, you bought a house without telling me, and enlisted your grandmother in the plot, so your actions are suspect as well."

"I told you, Tristan is going to co-sign and pay off my debt to Grandma and Dad."

"Just be prepared for my mother's wrath. She's at this very moment quite proud of herself for roping you into this arrangement. Finding out the deal is off and the news that you're not planning on becoming engaged to the man you're moving in with in a swift fashion are enough to seriously provoke her Queen of Mean side."

"Grandma is the least of my worries, thank you."

"What's that line, about famous last words?"

"I don't know, but these are mine. Good night."

"Sleep tight," Lorelai finished as they hung up.

Rory put down the phone and stared at her laptop. She opened it and decided to get more work done, because with all the things still weighing on her mind and Tristan across the street for the duration of the evening, she most definitely would not be sleeping tight that night.


	22. Into The Ring

Story Title: No Way Back

Chapter Title: Into the Ring

Description: Rory Gilmore gets tangled up in the other side of politics, but is she prepared to tangle with all it entails? Not if Tristan Dugrey has anything to say about it.

Rating: M

AN: Sorry the updates are so slow! There is a lot going on, with the weather and the kids and just life in general. This is a relationship chapter, we'll get back to more political stuff in the next installment. Might have to add some bonus sexy time to the next one. Some of you keep asking for that. (I'm looking at you, mrs boyscout).

Rory stood in the uninviting holding area, watching her boyfriend do his best to wait calmly with her. They'd already gone through security and were waiting for the inmate she was set to meet to be brought in to the next secure room. She could see the restraint in every move Tristan's body made and in every word he wasn't speaking.

She glanced at the locked door and then took a step toward Tristan. "You didn't have to come."

His eyes answered her before he opened his mouth. "Yes I did."

She sighed and put her hands out to grasp his. "Do you want to come in with me?"

He shook his head. "No. I don't even want you to go in there."

"He's promised to leave you alone if I meet with him. I couldn't say no to that."

His expression remained hard. "If you wouldn't have had Robert contact my dad's lawyer again, he probably would have just sulked back to his cell and left well enough alone. He's not going to leave me alone, no matter what you do, if he thinks he can manipulate me in any way. He hates me."

Rory's face softened. "You're his son."

"And therefore he can't truly hate me?" he finished for her.

"Pretty much. Families fight, but eventually they come to some sort of common ground and call a truce if nothing else."

He grimaced. "I put him in jail. And I'm not looking for forgiveness, in either direction. If you must, go in there and find out how right I am about the man. Just don't play into any notion that he and I need to find some kind of atonement with the situation. I'm at peace with the fact that he's exactly where he deserves to be. I have a father figure, and it's never been him. Keep your mind sharp and basically just remember that he's looking for any weakness in you."

"I'll be fine. Are you okay?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I mean, Jack was solid yesterday. We haven't lost any more ground. He wants to make his custody issue public, like you suggested. It'll probably hoist him back up a few points. We need a bigger lead for me to feel confident going into the last month."

"What about dinner with my family? What did Emily say when you called her to arrange it?" she asked with a concern.

He shook his head. "I love that you're fearless when going in to meet with a felon, but your grandmother has the power to unnerve you."

"You should have let me take care of unraveling the plans I set up."

"I'm the one paying her back, and we're a united front. It wasn't a problem—she was more than pleased to set up a dinner for us to all get together. She sounded almost giddy."

Rory groaned. "She's misreading the situation."

He frowned at her. "How so? You don't think she's setting up a dinner?"

Rory gave a chuckle. "Oh, no, she's setting up a dinner. But she's expecting you to deliver something other than a check to compensate her for her temporary loss of funds."

"What am I supposed to deliver? A pizza?" he asked offhandedly.

"Tristan. Come on. You were raised in Hartford society. What would you think it meant if a woman's boyfriend called her grandparents to arrange a meeting?"

He paused, then stared her down. "Ah. That's not really my style, bartering for a dowry. Besides, shouldn't I ask Lorelai's permission if I were going through all the trouble to get permission from your family?"

"Believe me, none of that is necessary," she shook her head as she uttered the words. "Not that my mother didn't enjoy being treated like Don Corleone for a while. My father was also thrilled to be included in the mix, but it felt like a trap at the time."

Tristan stilled. "They were all there when Logan proposed."

She nodded and glanced down. "Yeah."

"And you said no."

She nodded again. "Sorry. We were going to quit talking about him."

"I'm not planning on proposing."

She bit her lip and nodded, not wanting to say anymore on either topic. "Okay."

"Just so you know. I just want to pay her back, and we can have a meal with your grandparents. I didn't invite your mother or your father."

"But we need to pay him back," she began.

He held up one finger to her lips. "I have it covered."

"I'm the one that arranged the loans."

"Remember the talk about how we're equal partners in all this?"

She nodded. They'd had a very long discussion, before meeting with Anita to sign papers and arrange the inspection, about just what combining their lives meant. Marriage was not discussed, however, simply danced around.

"But since you don't have access to my bank account, I need to get the money. I don't mind doing it."

"Fine. You can talk to my grandmother and my dad. But I'll be there."

"Actually, I'm having a beer with your dad next weekend, after the move."

Her mouth parted in protest. "You already have Lorelai in your corner."

He smirked. "So?"

"So, at this point, my parents are going to like you more than they like me!"

His face screwed up in amusement. "Please. I've never seen more doting parents than yours."

"I think you have a skewed measuring stick."

"Comparing our parents is like apples and oranges. Don't you want me to get along with your parents?"

She blew out a breath. "Yes, just… ease your way in. And beware of being alone with them together. They speak in some sort of weird code from their teenage years. I'm almost used to it, but they could literally plan to overthrow a country in front of the current leader and he'd be none the wiser of what was about to happen."

"We're just getting a beer. And exchanging large sums of money."

"So, just a normal Saturday night, huh?"

He smiled. He ran his hand across her cheek, but before he could kiss her, they were reminded where they were as a buzzer sounded and a guard opened the door.

"Miss Gilmore?"

"I'll be fine," she said to Tristan.

He simply nodded and watched as she went into the room alone. She took a deep breath, the thought of how easily he brushed marriage off lingering in her mind. When she stepped into the room, the door closed after the guard briefly informed her he'd open the door in fifteen minutes unless she hit the buzzer. Tristan's father sat at the table, in standard issue prison wear, watching her as she made her entrance.

"Please, take a seat," he said.

"Mr. Dugrey," she said haltingly. The name didn't roll off her tongue, the way it did when she spoke of Tristan or his grandfather. This man, Tristan's father, was so removed from their family. All she knew of him she had gleamed from headlines of scandal or the stories Tristan had told her. None of it had painted him in anything but a bad light. If he had redeeming qualities, no one was willing to point them out on his behalf. She figured he probably believed there was something worth saving of his life, though even his wife seemed more concerned about regaining her own standing in the society circles of Hartford than having him out of jail to just enjoy his company.

"Call me Edwin."

"I'll stick with Mr. Dugrey, if you don't mind," she said sharply and sat on the edge of her standard issue metal chair. She placed her hands on her lap and folded them together primly. "You wished to speak with me, and here I am."

He smiled at her business-like demeanor. "So, did you sleep with my son to get your job, or was it the other way around?"

She did her best not to stiffen at his ice breaker. "I don't see where my personal life is at all relevant to you."

"You are sleeping with my son, aren't you?" he probed.

"We are seeing one another."

He clicked his tongue. "I've heard you're preparing to move in together."

"You hear a lot, for someone that's been removed from the general public."

He smiled. "I have a lot of friends."

"And yet you asked to meet with me. Why is that?" she refocused him.

"My son might not want anything to do with me, but he's still my son. I wanted to see just who he was lining up to inherit my fortune."

She cringed. "Your wife sized me up already. And it's not your money. You gambled that all away, didn't you?" she checked in a brisk tone.

"You don't like me. I'm sure he's been telling you all kinds of evil stories about me. But you still met with me. That makes me curious as to why."

"You said you'd leave him alone if I did, so here I am."

"So here you are," he repeated. "You must love my son very much."

She felt hesitation to answer any of his questions—something Tristan would appreciate if he were watching. "I do."

"Good. Now, I also hear that you're good at your job. Jack Kent's the new hotshot in Connecticut and is set to win the governor's race."

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you implying that the election has been fixed?"

He shook his head. "McKerney's too pussyfooted to get elected. He had some good luck and the numbers are close, but Kent's the sure bet. Even McKerney himself would tell you the same thing."

"So why were you bothering to play into his campaign, feeding into Brockman's set up?"

He blinked in a confused manner. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I might hear things in prison, but I haven't had contact with either gentleman. Visitor rosters provide proof of that much."

She rolled her eyes. "Right. You let your wife do your dirty work for you."

"She loves me. Women will do a lot for the man they love," he said knowingly.

"If that's what you think is going on here, you're mistaken."

"Why are you here, then?"

She shifted in her seat. "To hear what you have to say. That's in no way a promise to act."

"It was not my intent to ruin my son's chances to run for office," he announced, catching her even more off guard than his abrasive comments.

"Playing to my sense of right and wrong by pretending that you've seen the error of your ways isn't going to sway me to help you either."

He cleared his throat and considered her. "You've come here with a lot of assumptions about me."

She shrugged. "I suppose that's fair. Haven't you done the same?"

"All I assume about you is that you're sleeping with my son and that you've got Jack Kent's ear. Therefore you're of interest to me for a variety of reasons."

"I hardly have Jack Kent's ear."

"Sure you do. It's key to getting his mouth to speak your words. You have a power that I'm sure you'll never quite realize. I could help you, if you wish."

"I'll pass. Is that what you brought me all this way, to offer to make me a corrupt politician? Because it doesn't look like it turned out so well for you," she said as she gestured to his prison attire.

He smiled. "I have come to realize that my son has turned a deaf ear to all attempts to put family first and aid my early release, and I've made my peace with that."

"Good. Because he has no interest in intervening on your behalf."

"I had another thought. Jail doesn't suit me. I've been punished enough—I've been disbarred and had everything in my life taken from me. Being in here is the salt in the wound, as it were."

"Have you tried digging in your cell with a spoon?" she asked flippantly.

"I was thinking a pardon would be less labor-intensive."

She snorted with derision. "Think again. Governor Adams has spent his whole term cracking down on internal corruption. No way will he add pardoning you as one of his last acts in office."

"That's very true. But the moment Jack Kent takes office, it will be a new day."

Rory stiffened and shook her head. "He would never."

"Wouldn't he? Even if he were nudged by his inner circle? His right hand woman?"

"I'm not suggesting to Jack that he should pardon your sentence. Why would I?"

"I've already told you, prison is in no way rehabilitative. The longer I'm in here, the more felons I'm meeting and by the time I'm set to get out, those will be the only contacts I have."

"Seems you knew one too many criminals before you went into jail, as well."

He nodded in consent. "It also sounds like you and I are destined to be related one day. You love my son. What's your take on family, Miss Gilmore?"

She looked down at her hands. They showed no sign of an impending union to anyone. "My family situation is quite different than Tristan's. I respect his reservations in the matter. I'm afraid if you want a pardon, you'll have to petition Jack yourself and plead your own case. He has nothing but respect for your son, so I wouldn't count on that going in your favor either."

He didn't look off put by her logic. "I think he'll listen to me."

Rory didn't care for his omniscient tone. "Why is that?"

"Ask him."

"Why bring me in if it's him you want to talk to?"

"Because he's a couple of weeks away from an election, and he's no good to me now if he loses. And taking a meeting in jail with me would decrease his chances. And I had a feeling you'd show up."

"You don't even know me."

He smiled. "I knew enough."

She wasn't quite sure what to say, but the buzzer sounded again and a guard appeared in the doorway to release her from the confines of the sparse room. "You'll talk to Jack?" he asked easily.

She stood, "I will have a conversation with him. I won't put any wheels into motion on your behalf. That's on you."

"Of course. It was a pleasure meeting with you."

She hesitated before she moved for the door. "Did you mean it before? When you said you didn't want to hurt Tristan's chances?"

"He's my son."

"You say that like it's a bond that can't be broken."

He simply held her gaze. She knew that was his answer, whether he couldn't bring himself to say the words explicitly or he was just too stubborn to give them life. "You'd have to be the one to make it right. It's never going to come from him."

"I'm too far from death to be seeking out absolution," he assured her, though his words weren't as certain as he hoped they would have been.

"It might be too late even now. But that doesn't mean he doesn't deserve to hear the apology."

The door opened as she continued staring at him, realizing that perhaps he was in a prison of his own making, regardless of his societal confines.

"Are you ready, Miss Gilmore?"

"Yes, thank you," she said, ducking her head and focusing on her foot path out to where Tristan was waiting on her. He was still standing against a wall, his arms crossed over his chest as he didn't even have his phone to amuse him while he waited for her. She wondered if it seemed like a small eternity to him, not knowing what was going on in that room. She smiled at him as he dropped his arms to his sides and instantly straightened up.

"What's he want?" he asked, his eyes full of concern and completely focused on her.

She shrugged. "He said I should talk to Jack about their connection. He thinks he knows something that would get Jack to pardon him once he's in office."

Tristan laughed. "I've heard prison can drive you to the edge, but the old man must be cracked if he thinks Jack would ever consider that. There's no connection between the two of them, believe me."

"What about you?" she offered.

He rolled his eyes. "That's a complete technicality. I have as little association with my father as humanly possible."

"You do share DNA," she said blankly.

"Rory," he said warningly.

She shrugged one shoulder and looked up at him. "So you don't think it's worth a conversation with Jack?"

"I'd say no, but is that really going to stop you from doing it?" he asked knowingly.

She smiled. "Probably not."

"Fine. We need to get to your grandmother's house for dinner," he said as he offered his arm to her.

She giggled. "It just struck me; my mom would say we're leaving one prison and going to another."

"You Gilmore women have a strange sense of humor," he informed her.

"You'd do well to remember that and just go with it."

"Trust me, I've already learned that lesson," he said as they made their way back to pick up their personal belongings.

XXXX

Tristan stood outside the door to the Gilmore mansion and turned back toward the car. "Will you hurry up?"

She shut the car door, but continued messing with her phone. "I have a message, but I can't access it."

"Unless it was a 911 from Jack, in which case my phone would be going crazy, it can wait," he assured her. "My guess is Emily Gilmore doesn't enjoy being kept waiting."

"Dinner isn't served until 7. Trust me, not a second sooner. We're just cutting into drinks," she said as she stepped quickly to join him, slipping her phone into her bag.

"Drinks is the key to surviving dinner. How have you not learned that after all these years?"

She eyed him suspiciously. "Have you been talking to my mother?"

He just shook his head. "You have issues."

"You didn't answer my question."

"I called to leave a message on the machine, like you asked me to, to let them know what time I arranged to pick up the rental truck for next weekend."

"What time are you picking it up? It's not too early, is it? Because we have that final debate the night before, and if it goes well, we'll have a celebratory thing after," she began in an increasing ramble of words.

"Stop. Focus. We're going into your grandparents house for dinner, where I will be repaying the loan they issued you to put a down payment on our house. This isn't work. Stay in the moment."

She stilled and took a deep breath. "Right. I'm ready," she said as she rolled her shoulders to loosen her muscles. "Go ahead, knock."

Tristan eyed her curiously one last time before taking the lead and rapping his fist on the door. The maid opened the door and took their coats as she instructed them to join the others for a drink. As they stepped out of the foyer, he leaned into Rory. "Is she new?"

Rory chuckled. "Please. Of course she's new."

Her good humor left her once she stepped into view of the parlor, where she found not only her grandparents, but Tristan's grandfather and her own mother seated with drinks in hand and conversation paused as the pair entered the mix.

"What is this?" she asked him in a hushed tone.

He barely had time to glance her way, let alone answer, and instead she felt his hand steering her further into the room. Richard stood to cross the room in order to start fresh drinks for the new arrivals. Rory sat down next to her mother, so close that Lorelai actually scooted slightly to accommodate her daughter. Tristan looked down at her, from his still standing position, and she furtively checked in, only to get no information from his expression.

"We made martinis, but I can make nearly anything you wish," Richard said, holding out a martini toward Tristan.

"Martini's fine," Rory said, noting the fact that her mother's glass was already empty and her olive long since consumed. Tristan handed off the full drink to Rory and held out his hand to Lorelai.

"Top off?"

Lorelai smiled. "Why, yes, I do believe that sounds like the best offer I've had all day."

"Bad day at work?" Rory asked, taking a sip as she waited for whatever tale her mother would tell.

"I didn't have to work today, so I volunteered to babysit for Sookie. Jackson was being honored by some fruit commission for some weird hybrid thing he created, so they went to this fruit lunch and I went over to their house, armed with _Candy Land_ and _Chutes and Ladders_."

"You took candy? Does their mother allow them to eat candy all day long?" Emily asked with distaste.

"No, Mom, _Candy Land_. It's a board game. Like _Monopoly_."

Emily rolled her eyes. "Why would anyone want to play with pretend money?"

"Anyway," Lorelai said as she shot her mother a glare, "I think they got together before I got there and decided to make my hair go grey before their parents got home. Martha got her head stuck in the stair rails twice, Davey cut Olive's hair so short that I think Sookie's going to have to tell people that it fell out during radiation treatments, and I nearly called the fire department when Olive got ahold of the fire extinguisher and blasted the cat out the back door and treed it. I ended up calling Ray, the vet that lives over on Elm, and asked him if the cat would be fine, if not traumatized, with the extinguisher stuff on his fur. In case you're ever wondering, you have to give the cat a bath. Have you ever given a cat a bath? They aren't big fans of the concept."

Rory cringed. "Hence the long sleeves," she noted.

"And the third martini," Emily added. "You should have just called someone, Lorelai."

"Mother, who on earth would you call to come over to wash a cat? Please, enlighten me."

"There's a van that drives around every Thursday afternoon, horribly garish yellow in color, but it's a pet groomer. If they've got a van, surely they could be called in for emergency situations."

Lorelai stared at her mother in wonder. "Seriously. You should be an app. Ask Emily. Hey, do any of your smart Yale friends develop apps? We could make millions," she said, tapping Rory's shoulder.

"If her smart Yale friends don't, mine might," Tristan said, handing off her martini and sitting down with his.

"We are a room full of Bulldogs," Richard beamed.

"Dad, do you even know what an app is?" Lorelai asked.

"I've got one on my phone that tells me the best traffic routes through downtown at rush hour," Janlan said approvingly. "Tristan put it on my phone."

Rory turned to Tristan. "Here it comes," she said softly.

"Should I have one on my phone? Traffic is getting to be so bad in the evenings that we've nearly been late to our last three functions."

"Some people don't mind missing the first few minutes of a silent auction to raise funds for rare plants," Richard informed his wife.

"No one asked your opinion. Could you put this app on my phone, Tristan?"

Tristan cut his gaze to Rory quickly before answering. "Of course. After dinner," he promised.

"Oh, I didn't mean now. Now we should celebrate. A toast, perhaps, to your new home," Emily beamed.

"Is she drunk?" Rory asked Lorelai under her breath.

"You wish. Actually, I wish. I love drunk Emily," Lorelai answered.

"Richard, you do the toast. Unless you'd rather, Janlan?" Emily inquired.

Tristan met his grandfather's eyes and shook his head slightly, causing him to decline. "I'll allow Richard, as our host."

"Very well. To new beginnings and your new home. We're all very pleased to celebrate with you both."

"Hear hear," Lorelai said, raising her glass. They all took a drink, and Rory elbowed Tristan.

"Now?" he asked with concern.

"If not now, when? During dessert?"

"Later," he argued.

"Chicken," she murmured.

"Tristan? Did you want to add anything?" Emily asked hopefully, which caused Lorelai to let out a little chuckle. "What's so funny, Lorelai?"

"Absolutely nothing. Well, watching a small child chase a cat with a fire extinguisher, after the fact. It wasn't so funny, you know, during."

"How about you, dear? Do you have anything else to add?" Emily asked Rory.

Rory eyed her expectant grandparents. "Um. Well, we went to prison today. Just as visitors, though. Like _Monopoly_," she joked, but it was lost on most of her audience, save for those seated on the settee with her.

"Honestly, Lorelai," Emily sighed.

"What did I do?"

"You raised your daughter to bring up prison instead of discussing her impending engagement."

"My what?" Rory asked, surprised.

"Emily, that's not," Tristan shook his head.

Rory turned to Tristan. "Is that why my mom's here? And your grandfather?"

He had a moment of realization as something formed in her mind as well. "We'll be right back," he announced to the group, grabbing her by the hand and leading her back toward the bathroom they'd used as their conference space during their last visit.

She already had her arms crossed as she leaned against the vanity. He closed the door and began calmly. "I'm not proposing to you. I didn't invite your mother. Or my grandfather."

She raised an eyebrow. "You swear?"

"I'd ask how dumb you think I am, but I'm afraid to hear the answer at the moment. We've been shanghaied."

She smiled a little, cracking her concern. "We've been Gilmored. And I wouldn't have been mad if you had been planning to propose, it's just now how I expected you to do it."

He stood a little straighter and cocked his head to the side. "You've been thinking about this?"

She poked him gently in the chest. "Yes. Shut up. You knew that."

He smiled. "How have I been doing it in your mind? Are we naked?"

Her mouth dropped open at the suggestion. "No!"

"Maybe you should reconsider this image you have in your head," he wiggled his eyebrows for effect and leaned in to kiss her. She grabbed the lapel of his jacket on either side and held him in close to enjoy the lingering kiss.

"Let's just say you'll have a better chance at getting naked sooner after the proposal if my grandparents aren't in the room when you ask."

He smirked, then his smile fell away. "Do you mean that now I have to go out there and not only repay your grandmother but tell her we're not getting engaged?"

Rory thought about it. "Yup. I told you to let me handle it."

"Okay. You handle it."

"No way. You wanted to do it your way, and this is your mess. I'll be sipping my martini and will provide means to cheer you up after we get back to my place. Or, actually, we should go to your place. My place is mostly packed up. You are going to take stuff out of your apartment, aren't you?"

"I've got it under control," he assured her.

"Except my grandmother," she snickered.

"I've never had to announce the absence of a proposal before," he said with no small amount of confusion in his voice.

"I'm not going to let you lie just to weasel out of the conversation. If you tell her we're engaged, she'll start planning a wedding. And she'll be pissed if we don't show up for it."

"I think it's safe to say neither of us want that to happen," he said vaguely.

"If you tell her we're not engaged, you're refunding her money, and she's not allowed to plan our wedding all in one night, she'll probably put a hit out on you. Or have a stroke. I'm really not sure exactly how her body would react to that kind of shock."

He hesitated. "But you don't want her to plan a wedding for us, do you? You don't like lavish displays of wealth. Something tells me that she's a fan of the adage 'Go Big or Go Home.' And I've already suffered through one big wedding on my behalf."

She bit her lip. "It's not that I want it, I just assumed it would happen. She never got to throw a wedding for my mother, and I figured it would be a joint effort, on my mom and grandma's parts, to be involved in their own ways. My mom will want to make me a dress, like she always has for every other big event in my life, and grandma will be following people she's hired for the affair with a measuring tape and white gloves, checking candle length and place settings for perfection. It's who they are."

"Apparently there are things we still don't know about each other," he said finally.

"Does that change your plans in some way?" she asked, running a hand down his arm, keeping in close contact with his upper body.

He cleared his throat. "Actually, yes."

Her eyes widened. "Really?"

"Really."

"Oh," she said in an almost disappointed way.

"Maybe we should get through this evening first, and see if Emily still approves of the union after I refund her money," he suggested.

She nodded and gave him a tight smile. "Yeah, okay."

They shared one more kiss, a quick gesture of support, before departing the now working bathroom and rejoining the others, who were just moving into the dining room for dinner.

"What is going on?" Lorelai asked Rory as they pulled out their chairs.

"We're still just talking about things," Rory assured her. "He didn't propose in the bathroom."

Lorelai glanced at her mother. "That woman is jonesing to throw someone a wedding. She may plan one regardless."

"So you get married. You're living in sin, too," Rory pointed out.

"I hope everyone likes lamb," Emily announced, over the whispered conversation of the other two women.

"Sounds lovely, Emily," Richard said, taking note of her expression. "So, Tristan. Emily tells me that it is quite a lovely home that you two have chosen."

"It is. We'll have everyone over, after we've unpacked and gotten Jack elected," he said good-naturedly.

"And you're putting off the rest of your planning until after the election as well, I would imagine?" Richard began.

"Though I'd be happy to help if you need, to get a jump start on things," Emily offered.

"A jump start on what, Mom?" Lorelai inquired on behalf of her daughter.

"Not everyone enjoys the thrift-store sheik look, Lorelai. I can interview decorators for Rory while she's busy with work. I have the time. Though you should probably start thinking about which groups you'd like to join."

"Groups?" Rory asked, pausing with her fork full of rice.

Emily nodded nonchalantly. "Yes. The DAR is a natural choice, as you're already a member, I could take care of the paperwork involved to get your status reactivated. We need a new chair for outreach. We're not meeting our new enrollment quotas this season. You'd be perfect for that, plus the ladies already know you. The hospital board also needs someone else to work fundraisers, though if you're too busy I'd suggest the historical society or the library board—whichever you're more passionate about. Makes the obligation much more enjoyable."

Rory turned to Tristan with distress. "I have to join groups? Was that in the fine print of the homeowner's association we signed?"

Emily laughed as if Rory had told a wonderful joke. Richard joined in heartily, as Janlan and Lorelai watched the young pair exchange words without speaking.

"You don't have to do anything," Tristan assured her evenly.

"If you want to be a wife of a judge in Hartford, you can't sit on the sidelines," Emily scoffed.

"What?" Rory asked, looking back at Tristan.

He shook his head again. "There is no obligation on your part to do anything on behalf of my career," he said with certainty.

Rory switched her attention to Janlan. "Is that true?"

Janlan put down his fork. "Most women attached to men in politics do tend to take on a supportive role, foregoing their own careers in some way to aid their spouse's."

"But that would be between the two of you," Lorelai pointed out. "No one has the right to ask you to take a backseat to their life."

"She's already decided not to move to Washington and to buy a house for them to live in," Emily said as if they were trying to insult her intelligence.

"About that," Tristan hedged in. "Originally I'd planned to purchase the home, with money I have in reserve," he said easily, hoping for her to react in a calmer manner at the dinner table surrounded by witnesses.

"Then why didn't you?" Emily posed.

He opened his mouth slightly, as he looked to Rory for help. Still stymied by the idea of heading up multiple charity organizations around town in effort to boost his constituent base, she stared at the food on her plate and began pushing it around with her fork. "We had a misunderstanding for a while."

"Perhaps you should learn to be clearer with your intentions," Emily said, her words chock full of meaning.

"Mom," Lorelai admonished.

"What? I am just stating my opinion. He's free to argue with me, but if you notice, he isn't taking the opportunity," she sniffed regally.

"Rory is fully aware of my intentions," Tristan added, perhaps too late for Emily's liking.

"Is she? She didn't seem to understand the ramifications of being at your side once you begin your run for office," Emily said without missing a beat.

"Her choosing not to planning parties for society organizations will not affect whether or not I'll be effective at my job," he argued.

"It's not that she needs to do it, but a man in certain positions find it hard to manage everything on their own. A wife should be a partner, successful in her own right, but still. A married couple is a team," Richard announced in a wise cadence.

"She can be supportive without dropping out of her life," Lorelai defended her daughter.

"I realize that, Lorelai. I'm speaking from my own experience. I have relied on Emily all these years, to run my house and cultivate certain friendships. I never had to worry about that part of my life, freeing me to focus on my job. It has been a blessing. Surely you see similarities in your own life. You may not be married, but don't you rely on Luke in some absolute way?"

Lorelai was silenced, touched at the fact that her father was recognizing her relationship, despite the lack of notarized paperwork. "I do. I'm just not a fan of Rory giving up her career unless that's what she really wants."

"No one's making her do anything," Emily said. "Apparently no one's asked her to do anything, at any rate."

Rory bit her lip, able to feel the strain of Tristan's gaze on her at her grandmother's forward jab.

"I have no doubt Rory is able to both keep my grandson in line and fully pursue which ever career path she chooses," Janlan complimented her.

She offered a grateful smile. "Thank you. But you're all light years away from us. We haven't even moved into the house yet."

"It's all well and good to live in the moment, but it's no way to live life. You have to have plans, and know where things are leading," Emily said, unwilling to let the conversation drop so readily.

"We know where we're headed," Tristan managed, unable to hold back a response in the face of all the probing Emily was engaging in.

"Well. That's good. It's nice to know that you know what your plans are. It can be overlooked, the common courtesy to let those close to you know what your plans are as well, as most often one's decisions, especially about big life events, impact other people."

"Grandma, should any new developments occur, we will notify you," Rory spoke up.

"Really, Emily. I think you've delivered your point," Richard chastised. "If the boy doesn't want to propose, that's his business."

"Why are you two in such a hurry to marry them off?" Lorelai cut in. "Geez, I'm having flashbacks from my teenage years."

Janlan raised his eyebrows in an amused fashion at the comment.

"No one's in a hurry. It just sends a particular message, when two people choose to cohabitate and remain unmarried. Espeically given the desire to enter into such a line of work that lends itself to such scrutiny."

"So, this is merely good-natured badgering?" Lorelai inquired.

"I'm only thinking of their best interests. If you want to change the subject, let's change the subject," Emily offered.

"That sounds like an excellent idea," Rory said with a heavy breath leaving her lungs.

"Oh, actually, there was something I wanted to ask, since I have two legal minds in the room," Lorelai said with great enthusiasm.

"Oh God," Emily whimpered into her napkin.

Lorelai shot her an eye roll and continued. "Is it considered legal to block access to mailboxes?"

Tristan half choked on his bite of food and coughed hard. Rory smirked at the question and her boyfriend's reaction, finally able to enjoy some part of the evening.

XXXX

Rory turned off the side light and pulled the covers up over her. She lay on her back and stared up at the ceiling.

"Stop that and go to sleep," Tristan murmured from his position on his stomach, with his face buried half in the pillow.

"Stop what? I'm not doing anything," she defended, turning her ear into the pillow to face him.

"You're sighing," he said, still not making a move to pay more attention to her. "Softly. Like a sad puppy."

"I'm breathing. If that bothers you, I can go back to my apartment to sleep," she said, making a false offer. It had been a long day, and now that she had laid down, she felt like she might melt into the bed.

He slid the closest hand to her body up her leg and under her nightshirt. "What are you wearing?"

"Your come-on lines are getting lazy," she informed him. "You know very well what I'm wearing."

He opened his eyes and tugged gently at the fabric. "Yes, I do. My shirt."

"What happened to 'what's mine is yours'? Now you're getting choosy about what I'm allowed to share with you?"

He made a muffled grunt. "It's a good thing you look sexy in my clothes. I retain the right to take them back at will," he said as his fingers skimmed her bare stomach under the fabric.

She brushed a hand over her forehead. "You cannot have any sexual energy after the day we had."

He shrugged and rolled up onto one shoulder. "You'd be surprised," he said thoughtfully.

She recoiled. "You have got to be kidding. My grandmother all but told us she had been ordained on the internet and offered to do the deed in her living room!"

He chuckled. "Now that would have been far more entertaining than her taking my check like it was a bomb and asking to see two forms of ID."

"It didn't bother you?"

"Rory, come on. She was just being true to who she is."

"Yes, but she was relentless. And she's not going to let this go. Every time we see them, they're going to either sneak it in, so subtly that we might not even realize it for a while, or they'll beat us over the heads with it until they think they can break us."

He frowned. "Do you want to marry me? Or it some eventuality that you think will happen, like you're on death row waiting for your execution?"

She put a hand out to graze his chest. "No, it's not the idea of marrying you that bothers me. It's the way they expect everyone to bend to their expectations, regardless of all other factors."

"Your compliments are going downhill," he teased her back. "Forget them. We have enough going on."

"Yeah, I know," she sighed again, blowing air up over her face toward her nose. "I just hate getting Gilmored. She invited your grandfather for Pete's sake."

"He has a good sense of humor. Plus, he's known Richard and Emily since before we were born. I'm sure he expected some sort of display of insanity regarding our relationship. I'll figure a way to repay him for not warning me beforehand later."

"I mean, did she really just think you'd smack your forehead and drop to one knee and propose in the middle of dinner once she showed you the error of your ways?"

"I'd say no, but," he trailed off into a yawn.

"Hey, speaking of your grandfather," she segued back.

"Were we?" he asked.

"You just mentioned him."

"I also mentioned taking back my clothes. I vote we explore that topic further," he said as his hand continued to roam around underneath her bedclothes.

"What did you two talk about?" she asked, not able to be so easily swayed. The thought that if he was really putting effort into seducing her, she'd have no train of thought occurred to her.

"When?"

"Before we left. He pulled you aside and handed you something."

"Oh, that."

"Yes, that. What did he give you?"

Now he sighed. He turned to face her again and held her gaze for an extended beat. "He gave me my grandmother's ring."

Her mouth dried out instantly. "Oh."

"He thought I might want to have it disassembled and remade into another piece of jewelry."

"Oh?"

"He suggested earrings."

She nodded, not wanting to say 'oh' again.

"Okay, you're doing the quiet thing that really freaks me out."

She shivered slightly. "No, I just didn't have a response. You weren't asking me a question. You were stating facts."

He eyed her. "Do you want me to keep it as a ring?"

She bit her lip. "I haven't even seen it."

"You know what I mean."

"Do you want to keep it as a ring?" she turned the question back on him.

"It's not really your style."

"But you'd give me earrings made from the same piece?"

"Actually I thought I'd give them to Lorelai. She deserves something for changing the subject at dinner."

She smacked his chest playfully. "Do you have another ring?"

"Are you fishing for details about things you're potentially not really ready to hear?"

"I'm just curious. People are giving you rings."

"Just the one ring. He'd just gone through her jewelry. It's not easy to go through your loved one's possessions and decide how to get rid of them. He didn't want to sell her ring, so he gave it to me to do with as I pleased."

"Oh," she said again. This time it was all she could say.

"I mean, it's a perfectly fine ring. But it was just something he was giving me, for sentimental reasons. It wasn't an effort to back Emily's marriage crusade."

"I guess it means they all approve, right?" she offered weakly.

"You're stretching the silver lining of the experience pretty far," he said, kissing her gently. She leaned into his lips, enjoying the pressure of his mouth.

"We'd be having much more fun if you let me take my shirt back," he murmured against her cheek.

"Well, we do need a moratorium on the ring chat," she said turning up onto her side and sliding her leg up and over his, molding her body along the length of his.

His hand reached out to cradle her against him and needed no aid in finding his second wind. It'd been a long day, dealing with family matters, but it seemed they would be ending it on a very high note.


	23. Mine and Ours

Story Title: No Way Back

Chapter Title: Mine and Ours

Description: Rory Gilmore gets tangled up in the other side of politics, but is she prepared to tangle with all it entails? Not if Tristan Dugrey has anything to say about it.

Rating: M

AN: I know. Guys, I know it's been a super long time. I'd like to give you a really good reason, but really the insanely long time between updates was due to two things: pain and the fact that my friends talked me into watching Bones. Which I never had. So I did—all six seasons. As fast as humanly possible. (thanks, Netflix!) That really cuts into writing time. But I'm done, I'm also in a more manageable state as far as the pain goes, and look! A new chapter. Yay! I even added a sex scene to appease some of you. You know who you are.

Rory was leaned over the counter of her mostly barren kitchen, apparently too weak to stand upright, forehead rested against her crossed forearms. The only vestige of her possessions was a coffee maker that was plugged in, fully loaded, and brewing away at a rate that was never quite fast enough for her liking. It was likely that she dozed off during her wait, as before there was enough hot coffee to fill her mug collected in the pot she felt a hand on the small of her back and heard a paper cup being placed next to her elbow.

"Coffee?" she asked with a genuine and sudden relief.

"I assumed there would be retaliation if I didn't provide it at regular intervals this morning. You don't do early so well," he informed her, as if it were news to her.

"Have I mentioned how glad I am that I'm moving in with you?" she asked after she took her first restorative sip.

"I'm ninety-five percent sure that's the drugs talking," he said into her ear.

"You do know what time it is, correct?" she asked as she turned and poked him in the chest. He was wearing a slightly faded Yale t-shirt and jeans, appropriate for a morning that would be spent moving their earthly possessions from two apartments to one home.

"Well aware. I got up even earlier than you did," he pointed out, not at all bothered by the early hour or how long he'd been awake.

"Why are you so cognizant?" she asked grumpily.

"Because I don't rely on stimulants to rouse me," he said suggestively.

She tapped his cup. "Then what's this?"

He smirked. "Green tea."

She glared at his smug demeanor. "Are you going to talk about your stupid runner's high again?"

"I thought you enjoyed my stamina," he said as he raised his eyebrow at her. He had quite a reason to be smug, what with his track record for having excellent stamina in all the ways that counted—even his morning energy had been known to result in her own satisfaction.

She blushed. "I do. But you don't have to be such a show-off."

"Someone had to be awake enough to remember the keys," he continued to tease her good-naturedly.

"Did you pick up the truck, too?" she asked with a lingering yawn.

"Where do you think I ran to this morning?" he asked, quite proud of himself still.

She groaned and stood up straighter, stretching her back and tipping her coffee cup up to get a long drag. "Since you're in such great shape, I guess you'll be doing most of the heavy lifting."

He snorted and took a sip of his tea, just as a knock came to her door. "Like that wasn't going to happen anyhow," he said as he moved to grab another cup from the holder he came in with. He crossed the space littered with stacked boxes to open the front door. Rory's phone rang, and she scrambled to grab her it to check the caller.

"I need to take this," she said as she disappeared into the bedroom.

He gave a nod and handed off the cup to Lorelai, first through the door and already draining a cup of coffee in her clutches. She stopped abruptly and stared at Tristan and his offering.

"Don't give her that," Luke said, right on her tail, though too late to delay the transaction.

"Why not?" Tristan asked as he exchanged her empty cup for a full one.

"Don't listen to him. He wants me to stop drinking coffee, which is the same as dying. It's cruel, even though he's long claimed something about health benefits. There are no health benefits to dying."

"That's not at all overdramatic," Luke said with a roll of his eyes.

"Tristan is being a gentleman. He's a wonderful man that my daughter is lucky to have found," she explained to her significant other, as if he were unaccustomed to the idea.

"Thank you," Tristan said with no small amount of grace.

"Don't get too impressed with her high opinion of you. Remember, it's just the coffee talking," Rory said with a lilt in her voice as she returned to the room.

"Well, she has had four already this morning," Luke explained.

"He says that like he's new to my lifestyle," Lorelai said to Rory. "I mean, he knew what he was signing on for when he started up with me."

"Perhaps it's my duty to make sure you know what you're getting yourself into," Luke said drolly in Tristan's direction.

Tristan held out a fourth cup. "It's green tea."

Luke nodded and accepted the offering. "You already had my vote. You're by far the best guy she's ever brought around."

Tristan frowned and took pause. "Didn't she date your nephew?"

Luke snorted. "Yeah, so?"

Tristan grimaced and shared a look with Rory. His phone rang and he pulled it out briefly before pressing the button to ignore the call.

"Who was it?" she inquired.

He shrugged. "Nothing I can't deal with later. Let's get your stuff out of here."

She nodded. "Yeah, we have a lot to do. Is your place all set to go?"

He scanned the room filled with boxes. "Let's just concentrate on clearing your place out first."

Rory opened her mouth to argue, but he was already walking toward the bedroom and instructing Luke on what they should start loading first. Instead she stepped over to her mother, who was leisurely drinking her beverage instead of jumping to start relocating boxes to the awaiting truck.

"He's being weird."

Lorelai glanced at her daughter. "Who, Luke?"

Rory made a face at her mother. "No, Tristan. Luke's always trying to get you to cut back on your caffeine."

"What's it like, to be with a man who is supportive of your vices?" Lorelai asked.

"He hasn't packed."

"What?"

"Tristan. I stopped by his place two nights ago, and he hadn't packed a thing."

"Rory, I know you are an overachiever and don't understand why everyone else isn't as on top of every single aspect of their lives as you are, but just because he wasn't finished two days out doesn't mean anything."

Rory shook her head. "No, I don't mean he wasn't done. I mean he hadn't even started."

"Did you ask him about it?"

"Of course I asked him about it," Rory said as her phone rang. "Crap. I'll just be a minute," she said as she excused herself and moved across the room to take the call. After a brief conversation to go over a few facts for a media outlet, she was back to her personal conversation. "He said he had it all under control."

"And you don't believe him? Maybe he's having his stuff stored or something."

"But that's crazy. It's a huge house. We can put all our stuff in it and still have empty rooms. At least, I'm guessing, until Emily gets wind that there's even an inch of space to work with."

Lorelai put her nearly empty cup down on the counter. "You think he's going to keep his apartment?"

"I think he's kept a house and an apartment for a long time," she acknowledged.

Lorelai shook her head. "No way is he keeping an out. He wants in. You want him in, right?"

"He's all the way in," Rory agreed wholeheartedly.

"Ew," Lorelai protested.

"You know what I mean. We're good."

"The campaign is going smoother and Logan hasn't shown up, nothing like that at all?"

Rory bit her lip. "I'm doing a little digging into the connection between Jack and Tristan's dad. With Robert, whom he hates."

Lorelai fixed her gaze on Rory. "He knows about this?"

"He knows that his dad was grasping at a similar straw to work an angle for parole. He didn't put much faith in it. He says Jack would be aware of any connection, and it's not worth the effort to put stock in anything his father leads us to."

"And you have plenty of time to go investigating such a lead, what with the election only a couple of weeks away and moving into your first house and all," Lorelai said with mock-sincerity.

"Which is why I enlisted Robert to look into it," she said succinctly.

"Lucy," Lorelai warned in her best Desi Arnaz impression.

"It's not a point of contention, because he doesn't know. So, if he's keeping his apartment, it's something else. Maybe he's reconsidering his job options or us. Or both."

"I don't buy it. I'm sure there's a logical explanation," Lorelai said.

"But still, it's weird."

"Lots of things are weird. That doesn't mean they're bad."

Rory bit her lip. Her hometown was the epitome of that last statement. "I guess so. We should probably help."

"Definitely. You have a box of pillows or socks or something?"

Rory smiled. "I saved my clothes just for you."

"You do love your mother," Lorelai gave her a hug from the side as they made their way into the boxed-up bedroom.

XXXX

"You have all your insurance set up?" Lorelai asked as she opened the box of pizza and handed slices to Luke, who plated them on paper plates that Lorelai had the forethought to bring along, complete with cups, napkins and the number of a pizza parlor that delivered to their new address.

"I called Grandpa last week," Rory answered in the affirmative.

"Did Mom sneak in any pearls of wisdom?" Lorelai asked, her voice dripping with disdain in a similar manner that the piece of pizza she was holding was dripping with hot cheese and grease.

"I just said I talked to Grandpa, not Grandma," Rory reiterated.

"When does calling Dad ever stop Mom from making it about her in some fashion?" Lorelai asked.

"Are you two having a fight?" Rory asked knowingly.

"I'm freezing her out!" Lorelai said, aghast that it wasn't common knowledge.

"Why?"

"For you!"

Rory glanced to Tristan, who had taken a large bite of the still hot pizza to occupy his mouth. "I'm not freezing Grandma out."

"You totally should! After what she pulled, she deserves it."

"She meant well. She's just a little overly exuberant."

Lorelai seemed to be trying to assess her daughter's sanity. "What, did she hire you to be her PR director or something?"

"Believe it or not, I have more things on my mind than whatever Grandma is currently obsessing over," Rory said with a shake of her head before taking a bite of pizza.

That statement caused both Lorelai and Tristan to catch each other's eyes and divert their gaze as quickly as they'd met. Rory noticed the exchange and shifted in her seat. "The election is so soon."

"Perhaps you should rethink adding Emily into your items to concern yourself with, seeing as you're what she's currently obsessing over," Lorelai advised. "Emily's not known for backing down due to poor timing."

"How's the election going?" Luke piped up to change the subject, also taking note of all the silent glances being exchanged.

Tristan took the opportunity to speak. "Good. We're not assuming a win, because that's short-sighted, but our numbers have rebounded a bit and as long as the last debate goes well," he nodded meaningfully. "I think it's his year."

"And you're sure your dad's full of hot air?" Lorelai asked, causing Rory to kick her under the table. "Ouch!"

"It's what he's best at," Tristan said as his phone rang again, again receiving his inattention.

"Aren't you going to answer any of your calls today?" Rory asked.

"I'll be at the office in an hour. It's fine."

"An hour?" Rory asked.

He nodded. "After we eat, I have to return the truck. I told you I just had it for the morning. Both our afternoons are booked."

"What about your stuff?" Rory asked, her earlier concern over the fate of his belongings now growing.

He made a face. "I'm not going to make your mom and Luke move all my stuff."

"We appreciate that," Luke said, which caused Lorelai to kick him under the table. "Hey! What? I'm always happy to help Rory move, especially when it doesn't involve the insane attempt to conceal mattress theft, but we both have businesses to run. For all I know, Caesar has decided to give out free pie all day before he forgets to lock up for the night."

"Caesar gives out free pie when you're not there?" Rory asked, only slightly distracted.

"Only to some people who lie and tell him that it's been cleared with me first," Luke narrowed his eyes as he directed his comment toward Lorelai.

"Um, hello, we live together. That means I get free pie," Lorelai defended her actions.

"Is that what living together means?" Tristan asked Rory, bemused.

Rory shrugged. "I always buy my pie, regardless of my roommate status."

"It's the milk you get for free," Lorelai amended.

"Mom!"

"What? You're going to pretend that you two haven't slept together?" Lorelai asked with a bark of suppressed laughter.

"That's it, no more pie at all for you," Luke chastised her.

"We should get going," Tristan announced.

"Wait, what about all your stuff?" Rory asked.

"We'll discuss that later," he assured her easily.

Her mouth gaped open. "How about we discuss it now," she demanded.

"Rory," he gave a sigh. "It's not a big deal for me to get my stuff a little later."

"How much later?" she asked.

The doorbell rang, signaling their first visitor was waiting to be greeted. Luke and Lorelai both rose from their seats. "We'll get it," Lorelai added hastily, happy to be excused from the sudden turn of discussion.

"You are moving in, aren't you?" Rory asked Tristan, now nervous to hear his answer.

"Of course. Just not tonight."

"But we… that was the plan."

He shook his head. "Actually, we never discussed a plan, other than moving your things here this morning."

Her eyes widened in shock. "We bought a house! That signifies a plan, Tristan! That means we get the key and move all our stuff from our prior residences to our new, shared residence."

He listened to her words, which were headed toward a rant, with great patience. "I'm aware of how the process usually works."

"See, I figured it out without us discussing the particulars in great detail, and all my stuff is here."

"I know that, seeing as I carried half if it in. And you have a lot of books."

"Hence the library."

"That library may require an addition," he said with a smile playing on his lips.

"Tristan," Rory began, her tone indicative that she found no humor in the situation.

"There they are! Honestly Lorelai, why you'd tell me they weren't home," said Emily Gilmore as she entered the kitchen. "Are you all eating in the kitchen? Who does that?"

"Mother, did you really come all this way to be condescending about our choice of dining space?" Lorelai asked tiredly.

"No, Lorelai, in fact, I did not. If you had answered any of my calls in the last week, you'd know that."

"Rory, your grandmother is here," Lorelai offered belatedly.

"And it's not far. Rory and I are practically neighbors now," Emily beamed.

"You live ten minutes away," Lorelai said with an eye roll. "You're hardly her welcome wagon representative."

"How far away do you live, Lorelai? Don't forget to factor in traffic or the age of your vehicle. Those older cars can slow down a trip, with the way they break down."

"Grandma, it's lovely to see you, but we all need to get to work," Rory interrupted.

"This won't take long. In fact, you all go about your business. I just came to do a little measuring."

Rory glanced at her mother with fear and panic. "Measuring?"

"It's all just preliminary. I haven't hired anyone yet, but with a house with this kind of history, you'll need a very specific tone set."

"Actually, Emily, I'm glad you stopped by," Tristan cut in.

"You are?" Lorelai asked with disbelief.

"If I could have a word with you in the study?" he supplied.

"Of course," Emily smiled approvingly at him.

"What are you doing?" Rory asked Tristan under her breath.

"Give me five minutes."

"What's he doing?" Lorelai asked Rory once the two had left the kitchen. Rory set about tossing the paper plates and napkins into the trash under the sink. She shook her head as she then surveyed all the boxes that needed to be unpacked and wondered how long it would take to find a home for all her belongings in this big house. And how long it would be before Tristan would move in his stuff to mingle in alongside hers.

"I have no idea, but he has an uncanny ability to appease society types, when the mood strikes him."

"He reminds me of me. Able to navigate in the world, but hates most of it."

"Except he just bought a huge house smack in the middle of all those people," Luke pointed out.

"Yeah. I'd never do that. And ten minutes from Mom? Might as well give her a key, because you know she'll have one made somehow. We Gilmore women can sweet talk like no one's business."

"That is, unfortunately, correct," Luke teased her good-naturedly.

"Are you really banning me from pie?" Lorelai asked him with a sad pout.

"As long as you get it from me, you can have as much as you want. But stop getting it from Caesar, he'll get the wrong idea," Luke grumbled.

"I don't want Caesar's pie. I want your pie," she purred.

"I officially never want any pie, ever again," Rory announced.

"Not even my pie?" Tristan asked as he came back into the room.

"Bah!" Lorelai groaned, causing Rory to smile in retaliation.

"Don't like it when the shoe's on the other foot, huh?" she asked her mother.

"Shoes I have no problem with. It's the sudden superimposition of Tristan's face over Jim Levenstein's, alone in that kitchen with that poor pie," Lorelai cringed.

Tristan hid a smirk as he snuck a look at Rory, who also did her best to hide her smile.

"Who on earth is Jim Levenstein?" Emily asked, joining the crowd.

"Oh, Mom, he's just this boy I knew from band camp. You know, this one time," Lorelai began.

"You were never in band, Lorelai," Emily informed her, as if she'd suffered memory loss.

"I'm aware of that, Mother," Lorelai hung her head in an exhaustive manner.

"Now, Rory, whenever you get settled and are ready to start making some decisions, keep in mind that I have someone to put you in touch with, the top decorator in Hartford," Emily said, putting her daughter's confusing words aside.

Rory looked startled, flickering her gaze from her grandmother to Tristan and back. "Oh, that sounds great, Grandma. Thank you."

Emily smiled pleasantly and did her own side glance to Tristan. "I know how busy you are. I would never want to overwhelm you. It's important that one get things done in their own time."

"I agree," Rory managed.

"As do I," Lorelai interjected suspiciously.

"Yes, well," Emily sighed at her daughter's addition. "I should get going. You all have important work to do. And I suppose that diner of yours needs your supervision as well, Luke?"

Luke nodded stiffly. "I've been known to check in from time to time."

Emily nodded. "It's not smart to give underlings too much responsibility. It gives them ideas of grandeur and things get out of hand."

Lorelai poked Luke in the ribs and mouthed the word, "Pie."

"We should go," Luke announced loudly. "Rory, enjoy the house. It's great."

"Thanks, Luke. I bet anywhere I live that doesn't come with a bonus mattress meets your approval," Rory joked.

"That pretty much does it for me," Luke said and immediately turned to Lorelai. "Don't."

"What? I'm just happy to see Rory all moved in," she said, emphasizing her daughter's name.

"We have a meeting to get to," Tristan said to Rory.

"Yes, and I had something I needed to go over with you before that," Rory said.

"We'll leave you two alone," Emily said with a happy smile. "Come on, Lorelai."

Lorelai saluted her mother after Emily had turned to make for the door and wound her arm around Luke's as they took off at a few paces behind the elder Gilmore. Rory turned to Tristan the moment they heard the front door shut.

"You want to try out the new bedroom?" he asked as he instantly moved to nuzzle her neck. "We got the bed all set up."

"That depends," Rory said, trying to keep her frame of mind neutral with a side of suspicion. The lack of his belongings was not going to be overlooked for a post-lunch romp. There would be plenty of time for breaking in their new bedroom—or at least she hoped so.

He let out a low growl. "You prefer another room? Let me guess," he said with a happy lilt to his voice. "Laundry room? The spin cycle could be advantageous," he suggested as he grazed the outer lobe of her ear with his teeth.

She gave an involuntary shudder despite herself. "We have to get to work."

"We have a few minutes. Give me five minutes and if you're not enjoying yourself, we can go," he offered, still making as much skin-on-skin contact with her despite their state of being fully dressed.

Rory put her hand to his chest and pushed him away slightly, hoping to redirect his attention. "Why didn't we move any of your stuff in?"

"I will again direct you to the sheer volume of your book collection. We can only do so much at once. A man needs a rest," he teased her.

"You haven't even packed, have you? You're keeping an out," she accused, the reality hitting her hard.

"Rory," he began calmly.

"And what on earth did you say to call off Grandma? I've never seen her back down so quickly, not to mention gleefully. Did you tell her you weren't moving in?"

"Rory, if you'll let me," he began again, but she continued to cut him off.

"Why make a big deal out of having to be the one to buy this house or even suggesting we move in together in the first place? Does this have anything to do with your dad?"

"I'm going to go ahead and assume I'm never going to understand the way your brain makes connections," he said with a furrowed brow.

"You don't want to move in with me?" she asked, her eyes brimming with unexpected tears.

His whole body softened and he reached out for her shoulders. "I do. I am. Just not … today."

She blinked away the extra moisture. "Huh?"

"There's no hurry for me to move in, is there?"

"It's our house!" she exclaimed.

"I know, and you had to move right away, but I didn't. With everything going on," he led.

"I know work is crazy, but I still managed to pack everything up," she said, leaving out her other interests that had involved having the connection between his father and Jack investigated.

"Because you have a schedule in place that could break most of us mere mortals," he reminded.

"I'm organized, that's all. If you just hate packing, we can hire people," she suggested.

"And I will."

"When?"

He paused, briefly, but the space was discernible. "After my birthday."

"Your birthday?"

"It's the week after the election."

"I know when your birthday is," she said with an exaggerated eye roll.

"You do?" he asked with surprise.

"Your grandfather mentioned it."

"When?"

"I had coffee with him two days ago," she said with a half shrug.

"Why?" he asked, now more curious for details, despite his desire to hand them out.

It was her turn to pause. "He needed me to sign some papers. And he wanted to make sure I knew that just because you were busy, it didn't mean you weren't thinking of me."

It was true, though not the whole reason they'd met for coffee. Mostly it had been to keep her conscious clear—she trusted Janlan, but more so she knew Tristan trusted Janlan. Keeping him in the loop about the investigation into the connection between Tristan's father and Jack was a relief to her mind. Janlan had assured her that it was better to know if there was a story there. Part of her wished she didn't care so much about the story. It had no bearing on her job, and she had enough to do in the last days of the election cycle.

"Hence the desire to have a few minutes alone before we get tangled back up in work," he said, his voice returning the deeper timbre, indicating his want of her.

"And other things?" she inquired.

He let out a sigh. "Yes."

"Things you discussed with Emily?" she supposed.

He hesitated again, longer this time. "Yes."

She narrowed her eyes. "What on earth would you tell Emily and not me?" Perhaps it made her a hypocrite to confide in his grandfather and not expect that he might confide in one of her close relatives, but the scenario for this to occur didn't present itself readily in her eyes.

"I'm not sure you want to get into this line of discussion."

"Why not?" she asked.

"Because I think I'm not the only one omitting details here."

She stiffened, fearing she'd been caught out. "What's that supposed to mean?" she asked with not only suspicion, but deference.

He rubbed his thumb over the top of her shoulder. "Do me a favor and really take in this last part of the run. Decide if it's what drives you. If it's what you really want. Don't worry about what Jack wants or what I want. Okay?"

The way his voice softened the words made her chest constrict. "O-okay."

He kissed her forehead. "Are you sure we don't have time to give the laundry room a go?"

She let out a breathy laugh. "I think you still owe me an explanation as to how you handled Emily Gilmore so effortlessly."

He gave her his most innocent grin. "I have always had a way with the ladies. Surely that tidbit has not escaped your attention."

She raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "You seduced my grandmother?"

He cocked his chin up and gave the idea thought. "In a manner of speaking, I guess it could be construed as such."

"Huh?"

"Exactly," he said as he went back to kiss her neck.

"Tristan," she said with a sigh.

"All will be revealed," he promised cryptically as he returned to eye level to kiss her on the lips.

"After your birthday?" she guessed.

He gave her a smirk. "You always were smart. It makes me work harder, you know."

"Speaking of hard work, I need to go over my list for the meeting with the interns before the rally tonight."

"And I have to get Jack to the state Democratic leaders soiree before the rally tonight," he nodded. "And we're down to two minutes."

"Two minutes? Really?" she asked in disbelief.

He smiled widely. "Really. Come on," he said, taking her hand and pulling her toward the laundry room. "We need to make sure everything works," he said as he turned on the washer.

"It does sound reasonable," she said as he helped her hop on top of the machine as the spin cycle began. From her perch in front of him, she busied her fingers with ridding his person of his shirt. It landed to the side of the machine, where it would stay until it was included with the inaugural full load.

His hands were insistent as they pulled her hips to the edge of the machine. Her pants joined his shirt in a matter of seconds. He had promised results in a shockingly small amount of time, something they'd never attempted before. He had always taken his time with her, despite his level of need or roughness. This instance wasn't rough, but it was definitely swift and needful. His hands worked in tandem with her body, securing her legs around him, easing her hips in a motion that worked with the vibration of the machine she was balanced against. Her hands were anchored on his broad shoulders and by the time his lips met hers for a final time, she was aware of a vibration in her core that was separate, though enhanced, from the washing machine.

She bit down on his bottom lip in lieu of crying out. His hands slid to the top of the machine as his rhythm increased, chasing her climax. He'd broken the kiss and buried his head into the curve of her neck as she clung onto him in order to not fall off the washer while he found his release.

She smiled at the release of it all and found his lips as he pulled himself upright again. "Should we make sure the shower works, too?"

XXXX

"Okay, everyone, thank you for your attention and all your hard work up to this point. This is the final hour, so remember to talk to as many people as you can and enjoy yourself. We can't really celebrate until the votes are counted, but we've gotten Jack this far because of all your hard work and efforts, and I know he wants you all to enjoy the process as well as the end result. And if you need anything, I'll be making the rounds over and over again," Rory concluded the meeting with the unpaid staff and within seconds people were breaking up into smaller groups, mostly ride shares, and began preparing to head over to the rally site. She needed to grab things out of her office before she made her own way over, so she made a quick pace back to her office, and in the few minutes she was gone, half the office had emptied. She appreciated the eager volunteers. She drew energy from the pace and the excitement that came with the job. What gnawed at her was the information she'd found waiting for her in her office, having been sent by Robert, forwarded from his investigators, on the link between Tristan's father and Jack.

The fact that she couldn't let it go, despite Jack and Tristan having been sure there was no need to dig into the matter, was due to her journalistic nature. Had there been a connection, it would need to be dealt with, but more than that—it was a story. There was more to it, of that she was sure, and that gave her pause. It wasn't her job to get the story anymore. It was her job to spin her candidate in the best possible light. She was to get Jack elected, not find out the details of a hidden connection in his past.

"You must be very good at your job," came a familiar voice as she stood against a partition, staring blankly over the stacks of papers in her arms as she'd lost herself in thought.

Her head jerked up. She felt her body tense—she did not have time for this man. She had a rally to get to, to help orchestrate; she needed to hold hands, guide paths, and generally run everything behind the scenes. Another thing she never thought would be part of her job description. She frowned.

"You're not happy to see me, though," Logan said with a matching frown. He stood straighter, as he tended to do when he was on unsure footing. She used to think that men in power did this to make them look taller; borrowing clout from their stature, but her time with Logan had made her realize that he was really just trying to steady himself.

She shook her head and gave him a wan smile. "No, that's not it. It's just… busy. I need to go."

"Want a ride?"

She bit her lip. "I've got my car packed and ready to go."

He nodded. "Is there room in the passenger seat?"

"I'm on my way to a rally to elect Jack."

"I heard," he motioned around the room.

"You live in California."

"I have a residence in Connecticut," he parleyed.

She opened her mouth, but found no words waiting. She hated it when he rendered her speechless. It'd happened on more than one occasion, but it always took her by surprise.

"Look, I need to talk to you. And it's of a delicate nature. If now's not a good time, I could come by your apartment later."

She bit her lip. "I just moved."

He let out an easy laugh. "You've done that a lot lately."

"I moved into a house."

He considered her more than her words. "With that guy?"

She hesitated. Would it be a lie to say no? He did buy the house, and his clothes were there, if only one outfit, but he certainly hadn't moved in. "We're moving in together."

"Are or did?"

"What?"

"One implies you will and one implies you already did. I'm just getting the facts."

"I'm not a story. Since when do you use your journalism training, anyhow?"

"You'd be surprised. Besides, I'm interested in the subject matter."

"Yeah, well, be less interested in my living arrangements."

"I still need to talk to you," he impressed.

"Logan, honestly, what else could you possibly have to say to me? I'm pretty sure that you and I have literally said it all at one point or another. And if you tell me you love me, I'll slug you with my purse. And it's heavy. I haven't unpacked and I'm carrying more than the necessities at the moment."

"Consider me terrified of you and your bag. I still need to talk to you about a certain inquiry you're making."

She locked eyes with him knowingly. "How do you know about that?"

He smiled. "Like I said, I need to talk to you."

"No," she said, shaking her head and breaking his gaze for a moment. "There is no way you're involved in this too."

"I'm not involved," he assured her. "Well, any more than you are."

"What does that even mean?" she asked, instantly frustrated. She was tired of everyone being so obtuse. She wanted someone to just be straight with her. Especially people who were attempting to demand her time and attention.

"So, you'll meet me?"

She let out a sigh. "Here's my address. I'll be back late. Bring pizza," she ordered as she wrote her new address on the back of one of the fliers.

"Everything with extra cheese?" he asked knowingly.

"You remember that?" she asked, this time taken aback, but not left without words.

"You might be surprised how much I remember about you," he said with a wink.

"Well, stop that," she instructed lamely. "I have to go."

He opened his arm out to the side, indicating her freedom to pass. "Just out of curiosity, are you living with this guy or not?"

"Not yet," she answered begrudgingly.

"Has he proposed?" he asked, unable to stop himself.

"No."

To that end, Logan smiled. "I'm sure Emily is thrilled."

"Emily's never thrilled. Unless she buys something that George and Martha Washington once owned. But she likes Tristan just fine."

"As long as everyone's happy."

"I'm happy," she said defensively, with a frown.

"Good to hear. See you tonight."

"Yeah," she said as she watched him take his leave behind the last few stragglers that had been congregated by the door on the opposite side of the room. She had a potentially not-so-secretive inquiry, a pensive boyfriend, a late-night meeting with her ex, and while she was getting Jack elected, she was supposed to decide if this is what made her happy? It seemed like a lot to take on, and there was bound to be some easy out, and this time she was not interested in the easy way or getting out of anything. What she would be interested in was for even just a little less complication in the form of temptation. She just hoped that Tristan would understand that the hunt of a story was more tantalizing to her than an ex-boyfriend out for her well-being.


	24. Between the Drinks and Subtle Things

Story Title: No Way Back

Chapter Title: Between the Drinks and Subtle Things

Description: Rory Gilmore gets tangled up in the other side of politics, but is she prepared to tangle with all it entails? Not if Tristan Dugrey has anything to say about it.

Rating: M

AN: You guys are awesome. Thanks for the well-wishes. I'm getting better at pain management. Yoga is all kinds of awesome for that. I do have one story note for this story. Some states elect the position of Attorney General and in some states, it's an appointment (as it is at the national level). Connecticut is not an appointment state, but luckily, I write fiction, and so for the purposes of my story, we're pretending it's an appointment state. I only mention this because I know some of you are smart about such things and will nail me for getting it 'wrong.' I know it's wrong. If it makes you feel better, we can create a whole backstory and pretend that the state's legislature changed the law there. Sound good? Let's read!

Rory opened the door, her very own front door that opened into an honest-to-God foyer meant to give the impression of what a truly remarkable home lay within, but did not immediately grant entrance to her expected visitor.

"That is not a pizza."

Logan gave her a wide, sheepish smile, one that had gotten him out of many arguments in their shared history, as he tightened his grip on the bottle of alcohol. "It's on its way. I ordered it before I left."

"I didn't invite you over to get slopping drunk with you. In fact, you invited yourself under the guise of needing to speak with me about what I assume was some sort of business. If that's not the case, you can go back to wherever you came from."

He squinted as he listened to her, and he made no move to cross from the unwelcomed side of her threshold. "You never get slopping drunk. You know what happens when you get drunk," he led suggestively, his eyes giving away the fact that some specific memory was replaying in his perfect recall.

She cleared her throat dryly. She certainly did know the effect alcohol had on her, and the only man she was interested in enjoying such effects with was most likely home in his own apartment at that very moment. Suddenly both of these facts grated on her. "I'll have water. I'll call you a cab if you pass out or get fresh," she said, opening the door far enough past her to seem inviting.

"It's your house. And your booze. It's a house-warming gift," he said, handing off the bottle to her. She glanced down at the label—he most definitely had gotten this for her and not him. Her favorite, a guilty pleasure, peppermint schnapps. He preferred top shelf bourbon.

"Thanks," she said, closing the grand front door behind them. He was already divesting himself of his jacket and bag, which he put on the top of some boxes. There was no shortage of boxes, scattered throughout mostly empty rooms. A two bedroom apartment did little to fill the interior of the historic home.

"Wow. You weren't kidding about having just moved," he said as he scanned the house.

"This morning, we brought it all over. My lease ended. I haven't had a chance to unpack much."

He nodded. "Still has more creature comforts than my place here has. I'm not there much, so it's pretty sterile, even with my mother's attempts to decorate it, which only served to make it more museum-like."

"Why do you have a place here at all? You seemed pretty content with making a break with the east coast," she inquired, though she realized as the words escaped her mouth that she was broaching onto ground that was much too personal if she meant to keep the exchange strictly business. As it were, she was going to have to try to keep it to business casual.

He met her eyes. "Things change. And I have interests here."

"Such as?" she led, ready to get down to whatever this urgent conversation was to be about.

"Aww, I was hoping for a little reminiscing before we got down to more serious topics," he chided her.

"Nothing good ever comes of us reminiscing. It makes us cloudy and illogical," she corrected him.

"It wasn't all about sex with us. And we had good times," he reminded her. "Remember jumping off that scaffolding while dressed to the nines?"

"Nearly plummeting to our deaths can't be counted as our good times, Logan," she said with a heavy sigh and ran her hand up to grip the back of her neck, where she discovered what she'd already guessed—her neck was tight and sore to the touch from poor nights' sleep and more than her share of stress.

"Don't do that, pretending that we were any less back then because we didn't work out. I fell in love with the girl that leaped off the top with me," he defended.

"I wasn't even that same girl before we broke up the first time, Logan. That was another lifetime. Before us. Before everything," she said with honesty and exhaustion.

He held up a hand, by way of calling some sort of truce. "I didn't come over here to rehash all that. I'm sorry."

She nodded amicably. "What is it you need from me, Logan?"

He gestured to the couch, the only furniture in the large sitting room. "Can we sit?"

She followed to sit on the opposite end of the sofa. "I'm listening."

He nodded. "Right. I was having a drink with some friends a couple of nights ago. I'm in town to secure some new business contacts for a new direction for the company I started in California, but whenever I'm in town, I always see most of the same people."

"Colin and Finn?" she assumed with a wry smile.

"They both still talk about you fondly." He smiled easily. "And Robert," he added with less enthusiasm.

"If you hate the guy, why do you hang out with him?" she asked. It was a quandary that had always presented to her mind, each time his name was brought up between them. They'd only discussed his dislike of the man, though he had often been included in Logan's social circle.

"Because I was taught to keep my friends close and my enemies closer," he said simply.

"Your father taught you that," she assumed.

"Actually, that gem was something my mother impressed upon Honor and I. Though in Honor's case, she was mostly talking about mean girls," he informed her.

Rory couldn't help but smile. "That makes… perfect sense."

"Robert had one sidecar too many," he began again.

"Robert drinks sidecars?" she blurted out.

"Rory, not the point," he dissuaded her gently. "Point is," he led in again, "he mentioned you using him to keep secrets from your, and these are his words, not mine, 'perfect blonde boy.' I think he assumes you have a type," he said with a twinkle in his brown eyes. Something in her stomach clenched, and she missed the blue eyes that she'd gazed into as they test-drove their washing machine that very afternoon. The last time she'd gotten his full gaze, they were parting ways after the rally, him kissing her with a brush of his lips across her mouth and cheek, promising to see her the next morning.

"I do not have a type. What I have is a boyfriend."

He cleared his throat. "Maybe I do need a drink."

"Logan. You better have another reason for being here, or you'll be gone before the pizza arrives," she warned.

"My point is that he had my attention at that point, and I listened to what he was droning on about, which I don't normally do."

Rory eyed him hesitantly. "What exactly did he say then?"

Logan cocked his head slightly. "Just that you seemed to be hunting out information that, while loosely related to your job, sounded more like a scoop than anything else."

She deflated a bit. She hated that he was the one to call her out on this, something that had been bothering her own conscience for days. Tristan wanted it left alone, why couldn't she have done that? Then not only would she not be in further cahoots with Robert, but chances were Logan wouldn't have gained access to her home at such an advanced hour. She didn't need to ask Tristan to know that he wouldn't be pleased to find them sharing a couch, even three feet apart, alone in the new house. His house. Her house. Nearly their house. Her head was starting to hurt.

She stood up. "Let's get a drink. I think we still have some plastic cups," she said as she made her way through to the kitchen.

Logan walked into the kitchen as she was unscrewing the lid to the schnapps. "Ace?"

Her head jerked up and her gaze was accusatory. He held his hands up, in lieu of a white flag. "Sorry. Rory. You okay?"

She softened. "Just… don't let me drink too much of this, will you?"

"You're an adult, Rory. You can make your own decisions, can't you?"

She wanted to slug him, but instead she took a quick nip of the liquor straight out of the bottle. "Damn straight."

"Is Dugrey moving in?" Logan asked, taking the bottle to take his own shot when she held it out to him in a friendly manner.

"Apparently. Eventually. I hope," she said honestly. "It was his idea. His, not mine, and now I'm here by myself and he wants me to think about what I really want."

She had his full attention. He handed the bottle back—she wasn't sure if he wanted her to loosen her lips or if she just sounded like she needed the sympathy. "That's what I was wondering. Do you miss writing?"

She scratched her nose. "I don't know. Maybe. But just because I'm working for a politician, it doesn't mean I can't write."

He widened his eyes. "It does limit your scope."

She glared at him. "What's that mean? That I'll lose my chops?"

"What are you going to do with whatever you found out, this connection between Kent and Dugrey senior?" he posed.

She pressed her lips together. They were tingling from the mint. "I don't… I'm not sure. I have to inform Jack and Tristan, although," she blew out a breath. "I'm not a lawyer, so I don't know what the statutes of limitations are for whatever charges can be filed. Jack will be in a position to see that the investigation be reopened due to new facts," she led.

"What do you want to do with the information?" he rephrased his question.

She looked down. "It's not… that easy."

"It could be," he offered, taking the bottle back from her.

"Logan," she shook her head. "It's really not."

"Then why did you go looking for it? From the sounds of it, Dugrey's father is just desperate to get out of jail and could have been spurting out lies to get even a hint of doubt into your head. Why would he give a reporter that kind of seed?"

"I'm not a reporter. When I went in there, it wasn't in an official capacity, not like that. I went in," she groped through her memory, to make him understand. "Do you know why I went to all those dinners with you and your dad?"

He frowned. "When we were dating?"

She nodded. "I hate your dad. You know this. Can't stand to be in the same room with him without wanting to hit him. He's arrogant and smug, and he's never apologetic or humble," she said with distaste.

"I've met the man. I believe I told you all this before you ever met him in all his glory."

"But I went to dinner with him, sat at tables in pretentious restaurants and listened to his stories while sipping wine by way of biting my tongue, for you. I went for you. Because you had to and I loved you. If my being there made it even in some remote way easier for you, I was glad to go."

Logan put the bottle down on the counter. "Rory."

She held up her hand. "That's why I went to see his dad in jail. Because I love him."

"You can love him and still work for me," he said, something that she had not expected.

"What?" she asked, her mind spinning. It wasn't the schnapps—two shots did not impair her mental capacity or her hearing to that degree. His words would have hit her like a Mack truck had she been dry for a month.

The doorbell rang and he pulled out his wallet. "I'll get the food. Just, start to think about it. I'll give you more details while we eat, okay?" he posed.

She nodded mutely, too stuck to say anything. The obvious answer was no; no way could she entertain the possibility, nor would she want to. Not that she didn't have proof that they worked well together; but that was beside the point. Everything with Logan had been wrapped up in their romantic life. They'd never spent any significant amount of time in the other's presence without falling into bed together. It's how they celebrated successes and mourned defeats. It was how they made up and sometimes a part of their fights. But more importantly, it was all in their past.

He returned after she heard him joking around with the delivery kid, no doubt giving him the kind of tip that came along with the neighborhood. Something he was used to, so a part of him that he gave it no thought—something she'd have to get used to. He opened the lid and took a piece out, putting it on a paper plate leftover from her mother's left-behind stock, and she realized this was the second time she'd had pizza in that kitchen in the last twelve hours. It was a shame that the top of the line appliances were being shunned for so much takeout. There was still pizza in the fridge, in fact. She took the plate he offered and stared at the still-hot slice.

"Not hungry?" he asked.

"I can't work for you. I don't even know what all you do, but," she began.

"You know enough of what I do. But it isn't all I want to do. I want to build on our success in the social media realm and add real time news that isn't second hand. I want to create my own news empire. I had to break away from my family, I had to, and you know that; their way of life, the way they did things. But it turns out my dad was right about it being in my blood. I want back in the game, on my own terms, and if you do too—you're the best reporter that springs to mind. I'm just getting started, so you'd have to bear with me, but you'd have your pick. Local, foreign beat; whatever you want."

"You want me to cover the foreign correspondent desk of your, what is it again?" she inquired.

"Here, let me show you," he said, moving to grab his bag he'd brought draped over his shoulder and had gotten piled under his coat. He pulled out an iPad and pulled up an application. "It's in early development, but it's a hybrid of a real-time newsfeed and an online newspaper. There are articles, breaking news, photojournalism from the trenches, editorials, a place for people to share how the events behind the stories affect them," he explained proudly.

"Wow. That's something I'd read," she said, scrolling through the mock-up that he had on his tablet.

"It's something you could write," he assured her. "Tell me you didn't already have a byline in your head the minute you found out whatever it is that links Kent and Dugrey," he smiled knowingly.

"Maybe. But old habits die hard," she defended herself. "Tristan would not want me to write a story on it. It doesn't involve him, but it would still be brought up during his run, if he makes one."

"You can't stop being who you are for this guy. You didn't do it for me, it's not your nature," he said.

"Where's the line, though, Logan? Do I keep pushing away men that I'm in love with for my career? Then what? I can use my iPad to keep me warm at night?" she asked bitterly.

"Rory," he said her name softly and put his pizza aside. He took a couple of steps closer, his arm brushing hers. His hand went to her shoulder, his palm open, and she saw nothing but concern in his eyes.

"No," she shook her head and stepped to the side, away from his touch. "I'm sorry that it didn't work with us, and I know that was my fault. I wanted my career, and I didn't even get it, not what I wanted, really, and now," she bit her lip anxiously. "I'm tired. I should get some sleep. I have a long day tomorrow, and I have to tell Jack some things he isn't going to want to hear, and Tristan," she trailed off. She had thought that maybe he'd show up, unable to spend their first night as homeowners away from her, but as he'd yet to find her keeping such a late hour with Logan, she guessed that him surprising her later was out of the question. She was doomed to be alone with her thoughts.

"My offer's good. Tomorrow, in two weeks, in two years," he said, making his point easily.

She gave him a tight smile. "That's sweet."

He shook his head. "It's good business. You're going to go back to journalism someday, and you deserve to have your choice of assignments. It's who you are, where you're happy. Maybe I couldn't make you happy any other way."

"I'll think about it. I truly will," she promised.

"Good. It's all I ask. That and to stop hanging out with Robert. The guy really is just an ass."

"Then maybe you should stop hanging out with him," she said with an easy laugh, the most carefree she'd been all day.

"There, that's the smile I remember. I knew that girl was still in there somewhere," he said with a softness to his voice that nearly brought tears to her eyes. "Goodnight, Ace."

This time she did not correct him. "Goodnight, Logan."

XXXX

Rory was halfway to Jack's office when Tristan stepped out of his door and put an arm around the front of her waist to reign her in. "Hey."

She froze mid-step and nearly stumbled into him. "Oh. Hey."

He frowned and studied her alarmed features. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she attempted to subvert him, to play off the fact that in reality so many things were going on inside her mind that she had no idea where to begin to lay them all out for him, but there was the small detail that he knew her too well to let her off the hook that easily.

"Come talk to me," he suggested, tugging her closer against his torso. "Jack mysteriously blocked out two hours this afternoon, so he's not available anyway."

She averted her blue eyes from his and put her hand over his wrist to encourage him to relinquish his hold. "I know. I'm the reason it's blocked out. We'll be in a meeting."

He failed to let go, in fact at her words, he tightened his grip. She felt his fingers press familiarly against her hip bone. "I need a sidebar."

"Luckily, I'm not a lawyer," she said in an attempt to be playful, but made the mistake of getting caught in his gaze again.

"Rory. What is going on?"

"We're trying to get Jack elected, remember?" she asked, her attempt to dissuade him lamer than she'd hoped.

"Is this about me not moving my stuff in yesterday?" he asked in a quiet tone, though his voice was just deep enough to make her shiver.

"No, look, I'm sorry if I gave you a hard time. Take your time. Be sure it's what you want," she parroted his advice back to him.

"You think I'm rethinking moving in together?" he asked, dumbfounded.

She shook her head briefly. "What am I supposed to think?"

"Then let me explain it better," he demanded.

"I can't. I have to talk to Jack now. And I do need to talk to you about some things, but it's going to have to wait until I'm done here," she said, gesticulating to Jack's door.

As their eyes met in a deadlock, Robert came down the hall. "Ah, my favorite political team. You're like the Democrats' answer to Ken and Barbie," he mused as he stopped next to them. "Don't mind me, I'll head into Jack's office and let you two finish having your tête-à-tête," he said with a devilish wink.

"He's in your inner circle and I'm out here in the dark, wondering exactly what's going through your mind?" Tristan demanded.

"Robert is not my inner circle. I did not agree to move in with Robert. The only thing that Robert excels over you in my life is that he always lets me know exactly where I stand with him."

"You can't be serious," Tristan said, as if daring her to continue the conversation.

"He might be lecherous and evil, but he's very transparent. Are you telling me that there aren't things that have been weighing on your mind that you haven't shared with me?"

He let go of his hold on her and let out a heavy sigh. "Can we just talk?"

She shook her head. "Not right now. I have a meeting. Are you coming home tonight?" she asked, her blue eyes blinking up at him brimming with hope, despite her best efforts to remain cool.

He closed his eyes. "I have some things to get done."

"Fine. I have to go," she said, turning on her heel and disappearing after Robert through Jack's door. She was ready to start relieving herself of secrets. It was time to start focusing on herself.

XXXX

"I can't believe it," Lorelai said, opening a beer with the newly unpacked bottle opener.

"I know. I will never understand men!" Rory complained, opening up the first box of stacked up Chinese food on her kitchen table.

"No, I can't believe you ordered Chinese. I wanted pizza," she said with a sigh. "I had Chinese for lunch," she said, opening up another carton warily. "Ooh, egg rolls!"

Rory poked two chopsticks into a carton and retrieved a piece of sauced-laden chicken. "I've had enough pizza. Pizza isn't solving my problems."

"What exactly is your problem? That too many men who love you and want to give you your dream house and your dream job?" Lorelai mused, crunching into the second half of the egg roll.

"Are you doing that thing where you try to give me perspective by oversimplifying the details of the situation?" Rory asked.

"Mmmm," Lorelai pushed her mouth to one side as she considered the idea. "I don't think so. Unless that would be helpful, then yes, that's exactly what I'm doing."

"But it's not simple. Tristan would freak if I took a job with Logan, even if it was my dream job."

"Is it?"

"Is what it?" Rory asked, slightly confused by her mother's back-and-forth reasoning.

"Your dream job? I mean, I know it was. For many, many, many moons, it was all you discussed. I've never seen another twelve year old watch C-SPAN for fun."

"Paris used to."

"Okay, we've discussed this. Paris can never be used as an example of normal mirrored behavior."

Rory nodded. "I was just saying. I wasn't the only rarity."

"But you left journalism. You love this job, right?"

Rory nodded. "It's exciting at times. It's long hours, but so was writing. I'm never going to be as publically recognized as I might be given longevity in each field, though people in the business have been giving me praise and encouraging me," she rationalized.

"Forget what other people think. You're going to be great at whatever it is you do, because that's the kind of person you are. You put everything you have into your dedication. You need to do whatever it is you're most passionate about. And if Tristan loves you, he won't care what your job is or who you're working for, as long as you're happy."

"Yeah, but," Rory said, poking her utensils in amid the food, not really committing to spearing anything. "It's Logan. It doesn't matter that he offered me a job. I can't take anything he offers me seriously, not without wondering," she said as she blew out a breath and put the carton down on the table.

"Wondering what?" Lorelai prompted.

"His motivation. The Huntzbergers are known for ulterior motives."

"I'm not going to disagree," Lorelai began, "but in Logan's defense, and I can't believe I'm defending him, but he never did manipulate you into situations. If he offers you the job and he knows you're with Tristan, then I'm sure he'll respect that."

"Tristan won't even move in," Rory shook her head sullenly and crossed her arms over her chest.

Lorelai put her carton down as well. "Oh, Honey. He said he was going to move in a couple of weeks. You don't believe him?"

"Why would he put it off? What reason could he possibly have, especially one he wouldn't tell me about?"

"Not to mention that whole thing with Mom," Lorelai added.

"Right? How on earth did he do that?" Rory balked.

"I have no idea, but I think I should learn from him. That is, I mean, if you two are staying together. Because if you're breaking up, then I'll totally not keep in touch with him," Lorelai said with a cringe for effect.

"You like him," Rory acknowledged with a nod.

"I do."

"And you think that I'm freaking out for no reason."

"Most likely. Have you seen this house he bought you?"

"So I'm a terrible person that has issues and I should just wait for him to have time for me?" Rory summarized.

"No! You're a wonderful person, who might have a couple of things to sort out, and he should have time for you all the time! He should put you above everything else in his life and bow down and thank his lucky stars that you give him the time of day!"

"Because you're not biased at all," Rory said with a chuckle.

"You can poll strangers on the street, but I'm pretty sure you'll get similar results. Maybe even a couple of marriage proposals," Lorelai offered as a joke.

Rory, however, bit her lip pensively. "Do you think," she began, her voice full of hesitation.

"Think what?"

Rory shrugged one shoulder. "I've never been in a relationship where I dwelled on where it was going before, but," she led in again.

"And now?" Lorelai inquired.

"Sometimes I get the feeling that he's planning on proposing, at some point, at least. But the more time that passes, and he hasn't, I don't know. I shouldn't stress out about it, I mean, if he wants to, he'll do it, right?" Rory asked, her face giving away the fact that she had a definite preference for the way she'd like things to play out.

Lorelai held her hands up. "I know nothing. I swear. I didn't tell you about Logan, because honestly I was hoping he'd change his mind and never bring up the idea of you marrying him and moving across the country with him, but Tristan has not asked for my permission or your father's."

"Are you sure? They met for beer last weekend," Rory pressed.

"Oh, yeah, I heard all about it. Be glad you weren't a fly on that wall, you would have been bored to death with all their shared stories of high school hijinks and favorite microbrews," Lorelai informed her.

"Dad called you, huh?" Rory said with a smile.

"I think he thinks that if it involves you, it's his duty to discuss it with me. And having a beer with the guy you're shacking up with involves you, so I have to get a very detailed play-by-play."

"He means well, I've learned that much about Dad. He might consider some work on his execution."

"Are you this diplomatic when you describe me to other people?"

Rory stared at her with mock confusion. "I'm supposed to talk to other people about you? I usually tell people I was orphaned."

"Be nice. Or I'll make you wear that sandwich board again."

They stilled as they heard the sound of keys in the front door. Lorelai grinned. "I think someone is making time for you."

Rory brightened and craned to look toward the front of the house from the kitchen's entrance. "He said he was busy tonight."

"Busy is a relative term. And I'm sure his interest was fully piqued by your whole secret meeting without him."

Rory paused. "Maybe you should go out the back door."

Lorelai's mouth dropped open. "I will not sneak out of your house. There is only one house in Hartford I enjoy sneaking out of."

"I'm sorry, how old are you again?"

"I can't believe you're ashamed of me."

"You want to make me wear a sandwich board that says 'I love my Mom.'"

"So?"

"Lorelai," Tristan said as he walked into the kitchen. His suit was showing signs of a long day of wear, and he slung a medium-sized duffel bag onto the island in the middle of the kitchen as he passed it.

"Hey. Does Rory say nice things about me when I'm not around?" she asked.

He turned to raise an eyebrow at Rory, who shrugged. "Tell her," she allowed.

"I'm pretty sure you two have the most psychotically close relationship possible between a mother and daughter."

Lorelai turned her gaze to her daughter. "Does he mean psychically?"

Rory shook her head slowly in the negative.

"Don't worry. It's charming. Most of the time," Tristan said as he reached into the fridge and pulled out a soda.

"Well, I should go. You two must be beat," she said, standing up from the half-eaten buffet they'd assembled. "We saved you plenty of chicken. There's even an egg roll left."

Tristan looked impressed. "Thanks. I didn't get much a chance to stop and eat today."

Rory stood to hug her mother. "I'll be pretty busy the next couple of weeks, but I'll try to at least play phone tag with you. And don't forget to vote."

"Oh, I forgot to tell you, I'm spearheading the Vote for your Rights campaign! You know those four-hundred-year-old biddies that man the polls every election? The ones that have all the one-that-got-away stories about John Quincy Adams? Well, the oldest lady died, and the others are in mourning or something, so this year, Sookie and I are going to be the voting biddies!"

Rory's eyes went wide, and she once again turned to Tristan, who had taken a very large drink and was doing his best to swallow it without incident. "I … have no words. But I'm glad you're so actively involved, I guess?"

Tristan nodded as he recovered. "It's safest to applaud the fact that she's doing her civic duty."

"Geez, you two are no fun. I'm going home, for some free pie," she said with a waggle of her eyebrows.

The moment they were alone in the house, Rory began to inspect the outside of his duffel bag as he scraped food out of various containers and onto one plate. Once it was reheating in the microwave, he focused on her examination.

"You afraid it's going to blow up or something?" he asked.

She jerked her head up to look at him. "What? No. It's just, you know, you don't normally travel with a duffel bag. It's very kid with a trench coat and no friends," she said with a clearing of her throat.

"My coat's in the hall closet next to yours," he informed her simply as he retrieved his warmed food from the microwave and sat down at the table.

"And what's in the bag?" she inquired as she moved back to perch on a chair opposite him, though her dinner had already been consumed. She was now only hungry for interaction with him.

"Mostly necessities, but you have to start somewhere, right?" he said as they shared a meaningful gaze.

"I'm confused," she said as her eyebrows furrowed slightly.

He speared his fork into some chicken. "No, you're not," he assured her before he shoved more food into his mouth.

"You said you weren't ready to move in," she said, as if she were defending her territory.

"No, I said I wasn't moving my stuff in yesterday morning," he argued.

"There was an implication," she began her argument again.

He put his fork down. "You really need to stop inferring things and start asking them straight out. I would have thought a reporter would have some carry-through to her personal life in that regard."

She sat back as she felt her neck flush. Her hands slipped under her thighs. "I'm not a reporter."

He rolled his eyes. "You understand my point."

She nodded anxiously. "I guess."

"Is there anything else you're making implications about that I can clear up for you before you assign other untoward motives behind my actions?"

She thought of her conversation with her mother. She couldn't demand to know what their future held; it took all the romance out of it, and he wasn't a fortune teller. Only time would reveal their story. "No. But there are some things I need to tell you," she led.

Her tone gave him pause and he took a break from what was left of his food. "Go on."

"I know you said there was no reason to look into the connection between Jack and your dad," she led.

He smiled. "But you didn't let my opinion sway you?"

She frowned, this time truly confused. "You're not mad?"

He took a moment to consider his response. "Mad? No, I'm not mad," he led.

"There's more," she said with an ominous air.

"I have no doubt," he said, still in a mildly amused manner.

"There's a definite connection, Jack's ex-stepfather hired your dad a long time ago, and it's bad."

"Jack did nothing wrong; his name was never connected to any charges, not even dropped ones. Hell, he didn't even know the crime had been committed."

Rory's mouth opened into an O. "True. But what your dad did; what his stepfather did," she began.

He tapped on the table absently. "I'm not excusing either of them, for anything they may have done."

"I thought you were sure that your dad was lying."

He rolled his eyes. "He's always lying; it's just a matter of to what degree and about what."

"If you knew about this, why didn't you just tell me?" she pressed.

"I didn't know until yesterday, not for sure."

"Yesterday?" she asked, trying to piece together a timeline. "Did you talk to your dad again?"

He shook his head. "Didn't have to. I have the best investigators in the business. Better than the guys you hired, who seemed to do a reasonably good job, considering the age of the case," he said.

"You … knew?"

He smiled. "Your guys were spotted by my guys. My guys share full disclosure with me, including if someone else is sniffing out the situation."

"Why didn't you tell me you knew?"

"I assumed you didn't want me to know," he said simply.

"But you knew I knew."

"I knew you were attempting to find out."

"You were waiting for me to tell you?" she guessed.

"I was hoping you'd be honest with me when you were ready," he corrected.

"Oh. Well, I was planning on telling you, but I wanted to know if there was something worth telling. Why did you look into it? You made it seem like there was no way it was worth following through on."

"I follow through on everything. The fact that I don't trust him is even more reason to look into it. But I knew if I made it sound like a viable threat, you'd be all over it. I needed you focused on Jack, not on anything else."

"I was focused on Jack, but that didn't stop other things from entering my field of view."

"At least you farmed it out and didn't decide to use your investigative skills to dig through things on your own," he said as he picked his utensil back up.

"That makes it all okay?" she asked, again the implication not sitting right with her.

"These are bad guys who did unspeakable things. I don't want you near them for any reason, least of all threatening to expose their murderous pasts," he said, his voice now full of passion.

"Your dad didn't kill anyone," she defended.

"No, he helped someone get away with murder. Is there really a difference in your book?" he asked, surprised.

"I didn't say that."

"If you had been uncovering it for a story, how would you paint it? The guy is slime—he had a girl killed because she was in the way of his image, then he hired my dad to bribe a judge to get the case dismissed."

"What did Jack say, when you told him?" she asked curiously. Jack had been very stoic and detached when she broke what she thought would be devastating news from his past. It made sense now that he had already been briefed.

"That's one of the things I wanted to discuss with you," he said as he appeared to be mentally preparing himself for the impending conversation.

"I have something else to talk to you about, too," she cut in.

"I should go first," he declared, but she wasn't so sure. Her something felt like an omission that was harmful; she needed to tell him about Logan or else it would have a power to come between them.

"Okay," she said with underpinnings of uncertainty.

"I told Jack all the details; what happened to his ex-girlfriend, how everything went down, and why," he said before taking a deep breath in and meeting her eyes. "And then he offered me a new appointment."

"But you're ready to come out of the shadows and start the groundwork for your own bid," she said.

He nodded. "Actually, this would allow me to do that, while staying on his team."

She frowned. "How?"

"He wants to appoint me to position of the Connecticut State Attorney General."

Rory's mouth opened. "Oh."

He waited for more of a reaction, and when she failed to give it, he continued. "He knows that I'm on the same page as him. We want to accomplish the same things and there are things that connect us that made me think—if the men in our lives could do so much harm, then maybe we could undo some of that bad, does that make sense?"

She nodded slowly. "You said yes."

"It's… an opportunity that doesn't come along very often. I hadn't planned on it, but it's something I can't turn down," he said. "It's the nature of politics."

"Would you," she said as she looked down at her hands, which she was wringing together in her lap. "Would you go to Washington with him, then, too?"

"It could work out perfectly for us. Then you don't have to limit yourself to Hartford, just to be near me. Everyone wins," he said, his smile genuine.

"Maybe," she nodded, turning the idea over in her mind.

"Maybe? You'd be such an asset to Jack in Washington. And he wants you to stay on; it might have been part of the reason he asked me to fill this appointment," he joked.

"No, that's all you. You're the perfect choice," she said with a sad smile.

"You're being congratulatory, but you're not happy," he said as he leaned back against the cabinets.

She took a moment and just lost herself in his eyes. She knew that he had come over, thinking that his news and his presence would mend whatever was slightly off balance with them. And it was the time that they should be happy, not only together but for the other. Opportunities were endless, and it could be so easy to be together without overthinking anything. All she needed to be was sure that she was going to make her choices for the right reasons.

"Logan came by last night," she admitted finally.

His eyes closed as his muscles tensed. It was the last sentence he'd wanted to hear her say. "Do I get to guess what he wanted?"

She shook her head and forced herself to maintain eye contact with him. She did not enjoy invoking his ire, especially on that particular topic. "It's not what you think, and not even what I could have imagined," she admitted.

He moved to sit next to her, dragging a chair from its place at the table to be closer to her. "So what did he want?"

"To offer me a job."

Tristan frowned. "What kind of job?"

"Writing. My choice, local beats for big cities, politics, foreign correspondent," she explained.

"Are you going to accept?" he asked, and for a moment she could feel the time halt as the question hung in the air around them.

"My first instinct was to say no," she said.

"But?"

"But then I wondered if I was just saying no because it was him offering. Or if I was just saying no because I wanted to be with you. And it seemed crazy, to have worked for so long for one thing, and when I finally got a chance to do it, I would turn it down because I'd have to work with my ex or I might miss my boyfriend."

"Concerns can be valid, even if you don't want to give them any power."

"Would you make a decision that big based on another person?" she asked.

"Only one," he said with so much honesty that it hit her in the chest.

"Tristan," she managed when her voice returned. He put his hand out on hers.

"You aren't just a girlfriend that I'd miss if we spent seventy-five percent of our time apart, or in different cities. You're the woman I love, the woman I want to spend my life with."

"It's not that simple," she said, arguing even though she didn't want to argue that point with him. She wanted, for once, to believe blindly and trust that what she was feeling for him was enough.

"To me, it is. I love you, and I want to be with you, so I'm doing something about it," he said, standing up now to open his duffel bag.

"What?"

He pulled something out in his hand and turned back to her. "I want you to make this decision, but I want to be sure you make it with me in mind. I never set out to do that, but since you showed back up in my life, I've been making decisions with you in mind. It just happened. And if I should stop, I need to know," he said, putting a box on the table next to her.

"What's in the box?" she asked, her attention torn between anxious expression he wore and the box that was too unassuming to be insignificant that was a mere inches from her grasp.

"It's why I was busy earlier, and why I was going to not be able to make it over tonight, but after today, I figured fuck packing. I can throw all my stuff away, but I needed to see you tonight."

"With that?" she pointed at the box.

"I'm actually working a little off the cuff here," he admitted.

"Then maybe you should put it back in your bag," she managed.

"I don't want to put it back in my bag," he said, his voice full of determination and a self-assuredness that most people can't even aspire to.

"I just want to go on record and say I take you seriously, and I don't need a gesture to prove your point."

He smiled and relaxed visibly. "Are you nervous?"

She swallowed again, harder this time and with much less moisture in her mouth and throat. "Aren't you?"

He sat back down on his chair and took her hand again. "Should I be?"

She gripped his hand tighter. "I don't know."

"Then don't try to talk me out of this. I've tried to talk myself out of a lot of things when it came to you, and the only thing I've learned is that what I feel for you isn't going to go away or even get a little less intense."

"This can't be your way of getting me to say no to the journalism job for Logan," she said, still not completely ready for him to do something that he couldn't take back.

"I told you before, I'm never going to ask you to limit yourself for me. I want to marry you, no matter if I'm marrying a foreign correspondent or the White House Press Secretary, or maybe a woman who is tired of the rat race and becomes a hermit in Maine, spending the rest of her life feeding ducks and writing in journals."

She smiled at his words and felt tears pricking at her eyes. She rarely cried, and tears of joy was an expression she'd only gotten to experience a couple of times in the past. "Well, someone has to feed the ducks, I guess," she sniffed and pushed a stray lock of bangs off her forehead.

"Just go easy on me, here," he said, his smile still easy but his anxiety melting through.

"You've done it before," she reminded him.

"Not really. I've been married, but it was a decision that was made. Not something I wanted or something I asked for. And now I want to ask someone who has turned another eligible suitor down."

She nodded and smiled as his hand squeezed hers gently. "Do I get to see what's in the box now?"

"I tried to have it made into something else, and after I gave approval for the final design, I told myself that it didn't have to be what it looked like," he admitted as he took the box in one hand and kept it poised to open. "Just like I didn't come over tonight to do this. I've always been drawn to you. I've always wanted more. It's the reason I was going to wait to move my stuff in. I thought if I waited until after the election to move in, I wouldn't be tempted to give this to you, to push you to make a decision so quickly," he rambled a bit, which made her smile. He was normally so clear and concise, even with her.

"Your grandmother's ring?" she asked with deference.

He nodded. "I had it changed, the way it was didn't suit you. And it was too big, so, well," he trailed off as he shook his head and opened the box for her to see for herself.

In the instant that she looked up from the ring to his face, she understood why people believed in putting everything else aside for the sake of another person. In that moment she wasn't afraid of making the wrong choice, because as long as she was with him, anything seemed possible. All her worry melted away. "Is there something you wanted to ask?" she teased gently as she eased her bottom lip between her teeth.

He brought her hand up to his lips and held it there for a while. When he brought it down, he smiled. "Marry me?"

His smile must have been contagious, as she realized she was mirroring his expression. She gave a slight nod. "Yeah."


	25. Better Together

Story Title: No Way Back

Chapter Title: Better Together

Description: Rory Gilmore gets tangled up in the other side of politics, but is she prepared to tangle with all it entails? Not if Tristan Dugrey has anything to say about it.

Rating: M

AN: This is the last chapter before the election, so I'm thinking two more total after this. A bulk of the personal stuff is tied up here. Fallout from that will be dealt with in the final two chapters. Thanks for reading and reviewing, to all of you. Enjoy!

Rory turned at the sound of her name in the crowded space and pasted on her best smile as she made sure to straighten her back before turning graciously to greet yet another supporter of the campaign. She'd met dozens of generous campaign contributors, there to see the fruit of their donations and to publicly support Jack Kent's campaign in the last see-and-be-seen event before the election. The dress code was high-end, no doubt, but most of the attendees were saving their true finery for the inaugural ball at the Governor's mansion. Rory hadn't purchased a gown for that purpose yet—not only had she been too busy, but she didn't believe in counting her chickens before they hatched. Not to mention she felt a slight twinge of guilt every time she got a glimpse of Jack over the fact that she had a standing job offer with someone other than him. He also hadn't been informed of her recent engagement. No formal announcement had been made about that to anyone, in fact. Officially they were just enjoying the newly heightened status for themselves. Unofficially, they were leery of the frenzy that would be unleashed the moment they made it public knowledge.

She relaxed only slightly when she realized it was Janlan Dugrey that had called her name and was coming toward her with two drinks in his hands.

"You look like you might be thirsty," he said with a smile and a twinkle in his eyes.

"Thanks. I am. This is crazy. Amazing and wonderful, but crazy," she said as she took the drink from his hand in greeting.

"You're doing very well," he assured her.

She smiled. "Thank you. I guess you've done a million of these things, huh?"

"Something like that. Have you seen Tristan lately?"

"We crossed paths at the bar about a half an hour ago. You?"

"I caught him in passing a few minutes ago. He seems well. Much to his endless disdain, this is one of those places where he is in his element."

"Yes, he oozes B.S. with the best of them," she said easily, though she blushed at her own candor.

"Don't be embarrassed on my account. I'm the one that taught him to ooze, as you say," he said with amusement before he took a drink from his tumbler.

"You did a wonderful job," she gave him a smile and a nod as she raised her glass up with her left hand before lowering it and covering her fingers on her left hand with those of her right. If Janlan had noticed her new piece of jewelry, he said nothing. Her conscience reminded her that she was in the presence of a gentleman in the truest sense of the word, and that was the only reason he hadn't mentioned the addition.

She'd attempted to leave the ring at home on several occasions since the proposal, but Tristan had protested the idea of taking it off for any purpose. Just because they weren't overtly telling people, he had reasoned, didn't make it any less real. Keeping the ring on made it real. Being in his arms that night that she'd accepted, in their home, that had made it real.

"I should keep going. Before he gets up to speak, I still need to locate Jack again, somehow," she said, looking around the crowd from the vantage of her three-inch heels.

"Try near the food, but just out of reach. It's the bane of the nominee—everyone corners them and all they want is a bite of food so they don't pass out before they have to speak," he remembered. "I believe you'll find your man of the hour just out of reach of the hors d'oeuvres."

"It's always the simple things, isn't it?"

"I think you'll find that few things are true motivations for most people. Hunger, power, and sex, they drive everything, even for the most intelligent among us."

"You make it sound like we're all just a bunch of animals, milling about."

He nodded and indicated those surrounding them. "We are. It just so happens that these animals have lots of money and cover themselves in fancy clothes."

"Touché," she said with a slight raise of her glass as she turned to try to find the food and Jack. Her stomach was rumbling she realized suddenly that it had been quite a while since she'd had food as well. Between her days filled with last-minute campaign issues and her nights spent celebrating, it was clear that hunger had failed to be her most recent motivation.

It wasn't Jack she found next, but Tristan who found her. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her off to the side of the room. "Why have you been so hard to find?" he asked as he leaned in toward her hungrily, though she was certain his hunger had nothing to do with food.

"There are a thousand people in here, at least," she informed him as if he hadn't taken notice himself. "It's like a _Where's Waldo_ scene if Waldo was dressed in a tux."

"You look nothing like Waldo," he mused as his eyes roamed over her features with great pleasure. "You look amazing."

"It must be my new accessory. It's very shiny," she said as she gripped his arms with both hands, her left ring finger shining under the lights. "Have you mentioned it to anyone?"

"Our engagement?" he asked, his eyes full of either joy or mischief. It could be hard to tell with him, though she knew he'd reveal his mood soon enough.

"What else would I mean?" she asked with stern eyes set on him.

"I have not, though the old man is pretty good at math and still boasts perfect vision, so he probably has guessed, especially since he's seen it before."

She paled and tightened her grip on his arms. "Oh crap."

He frowned at her reaction. "Crap? Really?"

She rolled her eyes. "If Janlan knows, then he could let it slip to someone else, and all of a sudden my grandparents will find out. Do you know what Emily Gilmore will do to me if she finds out I'm engaged via a third party?"

"Rory, relax. My grandfather is not going to out us," he informed her, quite amused at the source of her fears.

"I'm not saying he'd do it on purpose," she relented.

"Then maybe we should discuss it with him, to ease your paranoia," he suggested, though still mocking her.

"Well, that would be telling him, and he's a person. That would mean we're telling people," she challenged.

"You're going to do one of those weird logic puzzles with my mind now, aren't you?" he asked appraisingly.

"I'm just realizing that our little bubble of bliss can only go on so long. Especially with all the compliments I've been getting from perfect strangers on my ring."

He smirked, pleased with himself. "I do have excellent taste in jewelry."

"It's really your humility that hooked me," she said, shaking her head at him in exasperation.

"So we tell people. We'll just do it our way. It's not bad news. We could slip it in at the party my grandfather wants to throw after Jack announces his appointments. Everyone will be in a celebratory mood already."

Rory bit her lip in a sign of concern. "That's another couple of weeks away."

"You want to do it tonight?" he asked.

"You've got to be kidding," she reasoned.

"Yes, I am. It's terrible form to steal the thunder from the gubernatorial candidate. Though we could throw an impromptu dinner thing tomorrow under the guise of a housewarming and get the key players over, if it'd ease your mind."

"No, it's just that I'm starting to feel guilty. Even though it has been nice just keeping it between us, it's kind of the point to getting married, isn't it? Sharing our relationship with our families?"

He eyed her warily. "No, the point of our getting married is so that I'm with you for the rest of our lives. Family is one of those unfortunate things that come along with the deal, that's all."

"You sound so much like my mother sometimes, it's scary," she informed him.

"You really haven't told her yet?" he asked, still partially in disbelief of that fact.

"I really haven't. Just you and I for now, that was what we said. Besides, we've been playing phone tag, and haven't had much time to talk. And I hate to do that over the phone. It's an in-person kind of announcement."

"So it's just a twist of fate, not because you wouldn't spill the beans the moment you got a chance?" he realized aloud.

"Please. If she saw me in person, this would be like a beacon calling to her from a thousand yards," she said, holding up her left hand and moving her fingers in a wave-like fashion to ensure maximum glint and glitter from her ring.

"I hope it'll have the same effect on Huntzberger," he said as he raised an eyebrow and interlaced his fingers through hers, bringing the pair down beside them.

"I haven't made up my mind yet," she reminded him, though she was certainly feeling the pressure to make up her mind. She thought of little else in her spare moments.

"I know. I know. I'll stop," he said with his free hand raised up in surrender. "We should get back out there. Make sure Jack remembers to lead with the joke about playing golf with Obama."

"I still don't see why that was so funny," she reiterated as they broke apart and began to step back toward the crowd.

He grinned. "Yours is not to reason why," he told her with a quick kiss. "It's funny if you know about golf. And law. And a basic knowledge of anatomy."

"Hey, I can play golf," she defended.

"You just won yourself a match," he informed her with a wink.

"Now, wait a minute," she said with a slight pout as he began to walk away.

He shook his head. "Too late. If you're going to claim having knowledge, you can certainly show off your skills. Be glad you didn't claim to have legal knowledge. Go find Jack. I have some more future Attorney General schmoozing to do," he said as he flashed her a smile and finally parted from her back into the sea of black and white.

XXXX

"In conclusion, I would like to thank you all for your ardent support during this whole process. Now that we are so close to the end, I hope you are all feeling assured that I will carry out the promises I have made. It is my intent to fulfill those commitments and bring changes that enhance our state and protect our people."

There was a sudden round of thunderous applause in the room and Rory joined in enthusiastically. When Jack stepped down from the podium and the sound of chattering voices replaced the clapping, she turned to find Robert standing beside her in his finest tux, sipping champagne.

"That is some ring you're wearing."

Rory rolled her eyes. "My jewelry is what you're staring at?"

"Not at first," he said with a salacious smile. "But you used your left hand to adjust the front of your dress just now," he recounted the order of events with a knowing expression.

"You shouldn't be leering at an engaged woman," she chastised, doing her best to feign indifference to having been ogled so blatantly. "I'm surprised you don't have more restraining orders taken out against you."

"Even if I would let something like that stop me, I didn't know you were engaged when I started leering. I guess that means he moved in?" he asked with amusement.

"Your deductive skills never cease to amaze me," she said with a sigh. She took a drink of champagne to counteract the effects of speaking with Robert. Normally she could handle the strain, but she had too much on her plate at that moment.

"I take it this means he wasn't upset about you poking about in his family's dirty business."

"He's not upset with me, but he still loathes you, so you might not want to linger. Why are you here, anyway?"

"We're on the same side, remember?"

"God help us all if that's true," she managed.

"You know, if you could give me one good reason to go easy on any of your boyfriends, I might consider it."

She shook her head. "I don't have any boyfriends. I have one fiancé."

"Word hasn't gotten around about that, and there is at least one other man out there that is still hoping for his chance at the ring, if you'll pardon the pun."

"If you're referring to Logan, you're wrong. His interest in me is not of a personal nature anymore," she corrected him rightly.

"Do you dream of kittens and rainbows every night?" he asked, his eyes awash in amazement.

"What?"

"Does Logan know you're engaged?" Robert asked, not swayed by his first attempt having gone over her head.

"You seem to have an unnatural obsession with Logan," she eyed him skeptically.

"He's an annoying son-of-a-bitch and I enjoy seeing him in agony," Robert said without emotion. "You have come in very handy in that respect. I feel like I should thank you somehow, but nothing seems to be enough. You've already got a giant diamond."

"Is that why you've been so helpful to me lately?" she asked. "I did wonder. Everyone else just assumes you want to have sex with me."

Robert smiled. "I don't see why I should have to choose a reason when they're all so applicable."

"Have a nice evening, Robert," she said with finality and turned to remove herself from the conversation. She was happy to accept a glass of champagne on her way through the crowd and found Jack in-between well-wishers. "You seem to be holding up well."

"Call it a second-wind," he said with a smile.

"People are predicting a landslide," she said conspiratorially.

"I do hope you're taking a little credit for those compliments."

She shook her head. "It's not my job to take credit for your success," she said with all sincerity. "I'm happy to be behind the scenes in this regard."

He touched her shoulder. "Plenty of people have been taking notice of your work. One of my most-asked questions from colleagues is how I managed to land you."

"Did you tell them how doggedly persistent you can be when your mind is set on something?" she asked with a smile.

"That goes without saying," he said easily, with a hint of laughter. "Of course, the only question I've been getting about you tonight is who the lucky man is that put that on your finger," he said with an eye to her left hand.

She ran her thumb along the edge of the band on the palm side of her finger. "We haven't exactly told anyone yet."

Jack shook his head and held up a hand. "It's your personal business, but I was wondering what that meant for your career plans. Now that he's agreed to accept the Attorney General post," he began.

"Jack," she said with a deep inhale. "I can't promise anything right now."

He waved a hand. "I know this isn't the place to get into it. We'll speak privately later. I just hope it's something you'll keep in mind. You'll always have a place on my team. And congratulations," he said, clearly happy for their new status.

"Thanks. For everything, Jack," she said earnestly.

XXXX

Rory leaned her cheek against Tristan's warm chest and listened to his deep, even breath. Hers had calmed considerably since they'd finally allowed their bodies rest. She could see her discarded dress crumpled over the chair in the corner of the room, the result of her kicking it off her ankle after he'd slid it down her body, with the aid of his teeth and fingers. His shirt was lying open on the foot of the bed where she'd pushed it from his shoulders after nearly ripping the small buttons off the front in lieu of patiently unfastening them. They'd gotten home about two hours prior, and they'd wasted no time in retiring to their bedroom and getting out of their formal wear in the process. The trip to the bedroom had been so hasty, she'd realized, in their apartments, with so few steps to travel from the front door. The foreplay involved in navigating stairs and the expanse of a house while exploring one another's bodies had added an element that was worth the move alone.

"You still aren't tired?" he asked in a slightly gravelly voice, a sign that sleep had pulled him to the brink, if not claimed him for a short time already. His hand opened wide over her hip, where it had been resting.

She ran her hand over his chest, her fingertips brushing over the muscles that jumped under his skin at her light touch. "Jack knows."

"Jack's smart," he said as his hand rubbed its way up the small of her back from the curve of her hip and back.

"He still wants me to stay on with him, for the long haul."

"Jack's smart," Tristan parroted yet again, this time rolling up on his side, shifting their bodies so that he was leaning over her. He'd done his best not to sway her decision-making process, save for offering truths and support. She knew his preference, though, even without him pushing it on her.

She reached up and touched his jaw. The pads of her fingertips grated over the barest hint of textured stubble as she traced his strong features. "I want to make the right decision."

He leaned down and kissed her, his lips at once reassuring and inviting. His chest pressed into hers and she arched her back into his torso, pushing him to deepen the kiss. When he finally pulled back, his eyes were filled with want. "You will."

"You make it sound easy."

He traced two fingers down her cheek to her chin, and then brushed them across her lower lip. She parted her mouth slightly at the pressure. "Only you know what you want. If you want to tell me what you want, I'd gladly help you in any way I can."

"Anything I want?" she asked, her lips upturned at the implication.

"If you can't think of anything specific, I have a few suggestions," he said as he eased his weight back down over her body. She shifted, resulting in the delicious sensation of her skin sliding along his solid, naked form. Her head tilted back, allowing her chin to lift up to meet his lips once again.

"I could stay here like this forever," she said as his lips left hers and began the slow, amorous descent down her neck toward other nerve centers along her body.

He smiled into her skin, and she heard a low chuckle in his throat, the vibration making her skin tingle. She shivered into him and sought out his shoulders with her hands. Everywhere she touched him, she found strength. She gripped the muscles under her fingers. "I'd make sure you stayed plenty busy. I'm a very loyal customer."

She started to laugh, but his lips had found her chest and the only noise that escaped her mouth had dissolved into a slow moan. She shifted her hips once again, up and off the mattress, and he responded by pressing his hips down, against her, pinning her under his arousal.

Her hands roamed up his neck and through his hair, as he left lingering kisses up her breastbone. "Are you trying to distract me from my thoughts?" she managed, her mouth dry in want of the taste of his mouth.

He gave her an impish smile and nipped at her collarbone. "Is it working?"

Her hand slid down his cheek and she held his head in her hand as he leaned into her touch. "Sometimes when you're touching me, I can't tell where I end and you begin. I don't just lose my train of thought, I literally get lost in you."

His lips were instantly back on hers, covering the mouth that had just said the words that evoked such a sudden and strong reaction. She arched back into him, this time seeking fusion in a much more primal manner. The slow ache he'd intended to give her had been abandoned, his intent shifting to give her exactly what she wanted. She took a ragged breath as he entered her and his hips pressed down and up against her, burying himself as far inside her as he could. When the rocking of their bodies pushed her over the edge of her climax, it was his name that she called out.

XXXX

"I ordered for you."

Rory gave a tight smile and put her bag down on the floor next to the seat beside her companion. She edged her way onto the chair and tossed her hair to one side. She'd worn it down to hide the few marks that had incurred during her passionate encounter the night before. She reached for her cup and took a sip before she greeted the man who'd ordered her coffee.

"Thanks. For the coffee and agreeing to meet on such short notice."

Logan grinned. "You know my rule about saying no to beautiful women."

She pulled the cup away and licked her lip for stray remnants of her beverage. "I need details."

"About my rule?" he teased, knowing instead exactly what it was she meant.

"I've been trying to make this decision, and I want to get things sorted before the election. I don't want to leave Jack in a crunch for someone to fill my place, if I choose to work for you."

Logan's eyes lit up. "You're really considering it, then?"

She nodded and took another sip. After she swallowed, she continued. "Yes, but as much as I try, I can't envision what it would look like if I did. I know you said I could have my choice of beats, but for a while now I've been able to see myself working with Jack, living and breathing the ins and outs of the political machine and working toward some kind of greater good. And I know journalism is my roots, but I still have questions. Where would I be based? What kind of pieces are you looking for? Would I have complete control over content, or would that be dictated by a board or based on what else was out there?"

He gave a heavy sigh, the mark that he'd made a realization, and one he didn't like at that. "You're going to say no, aren't you?"

She frowned and shook her head. "I haven't decided. That's why I wanted to speak with you."

He smiled, though the emotion didn't make it to his eyes. He reached out and gently eased his fingers under hers. He held her left hand up between them. "He proposed."

She stared down at the telling piece of jewelry on her finger for a moment before drawing her hand away from his. "I wasn't aware that my relationship status would negate your offer."

He shook his head. "It doesn't. But it does influence your answer."

"He's supportive of whatever decision I make," she assured Logan.

"Yeah, but Rory," he said haltingly. "You agreed to marry him. Something tells me that a job where you get to come home to him every night holds more weight to you than one where you'd be living out of a suitcase and catching up with him on FaceTime while you're a day ahead in a different time zone."

"It's not ideal," she admitted, flashing back to what she'd told Tristan the night before. Being in his arms, at that moment there was no way she'd have said yes to a life of anything other than being with him as much as she could. She squeezed her eyes shut. "I have to say no."

"I gotta say, I have to have respect for this guy, even though I kind of hate his guts," Logan admitted honestly.

Rory cocked her head and stared at the man she used to love. "Why?"

Logan shrugged and took a moment to look at her. "Because he got the girl."

She bit her lip as she had no words to respond properly to his answer. All she had left was a nagging question. It could go unanswered, but it seemed a time for proper goodbyes and tied-up loose ends when it came to men from her past. There would only be one man in her future. "Robert said that you were still hoping for a chance at the ring. I know he has no mental filters to speak of and he enjoys making people uncomfortable for sport," she led.

"That he does."

"But was he right? You didn't really want… I mean, what we were doing before I moved back to Hartford. That was just sex to you, wasn't it?"

"If I'd asked you, before you left New York, what would you have said?" he asked, turning her question around on her.

"Asked me if I thought it was just sex?" she asked, not quite grappling his intent.

His soft brown eyes met hers. "No. If I'd asked you to marry me again. Before you got involved with Tristan," he clarified.

"Logan, I," she said, flummoxed at the idea, not dissimilar to the first time he'd proposed.

"You couldn't see that either, can you?" he asked matter-of-factly.

"I'm sorry, Logan."

"Don't be. You should be with the guy you can't imagine being without. You're lucky to have found him," he said honestly, if not with a small amount of concealed pain.

She pushed her coffee cup back away from her and stood up, placing her bag back over her shoulder. "Thanks for the coffee. I should go. There's still so much to do before the election."

"You've got my vote," he assured her. "For what it's worth."

She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "Thanks. Bye, Logan."

He held up a hand. "Bye, Ace."

XXXX

Rory put her purse on the table in the living room before walking through to the kitchen to see if by some small miracle Tristan had arrived home before her and began some kind of meal preparation. Finding not even a light on to indicate anyone else had been in the house since they'd left together that morning, she did the honors and opened the refrigerator door, which sadly offered not much in the way of sustenance.

"Hey, have you been here long?"

She didn't turn at the sound of his voice, but rather opened and closed the mostly empty meat drawer. "Why do we have a drawer for meat? And why is there a brick of cheese in the meat drawer?" she asked.

She heard him snicker at the inquiry, but she only turned at the sound of take-out containers being set on the counter. "You got food! We need food," she said desperately.

"Which is why I stopped on my way home."

"No, I mean real food. We need to go to the store and buy things to keep here, so one of us doesn't die of starvation in the other's absence once we run out of cheese," she explained.

"Ah, death by cheese, not pretty. Fair enough, we will eventually make it to a grocery store. But in the meantime," he opened the first container for her inspection.

"You got Indian food!" she said with a single clap of her hands and left her palms pressed together as she smiled at him with full approval. "You do love me."

"Some women might have guessed when I proposed," he said with a shrug and opened the second container and pulled out a piece of garlic naan to hand to her.

She took it willingly and took a bite. "Hey, this is from Sandeep's."

He pulled out two forks and handed her one. "There is no way you could know that."

"I've been the primary benefactor of that place since Chilton," she said after she chewed thoughtfully. "They use Jackson's garlic, not to mention other vegetables, including his parsnips in a curry one time that I actually thought was amazing, but they discontinued it after Kirk had an allergic reaction to it."

"Parsnip curry?" he repeated, in a state of disbelief that he reserved for reactions to most of her stories about Stars Hollow.

"Why were you in Stars Hollow?" she asked, her eyes not leaving him as she prepped a bite of food on her fork.

"I was dropping off voting materials in the area, and your mom was actually the hub in Stars Hollow. She asked me to have coffee while I was there, and then I picked up food for us on my way home."

"I haven't been able to get her on the phone for over a week and you just happen to catch her with enough time to chat over coffee?" she asked. "That just isn't fair."

"I already promised to make sure the two of you have uninterrupted time together once the election was over."

She glanced up from her food. "You did? Wait, you do know that Lorelai already loves you, right? You don't have to try to get on her good side. In fact, she might like you more than she likes me. Feel free to scale back on the sucking up."

He put his fork down. "She's your mom, and you're close with her. I know that's important to you."

Her lips parted slightly as understanding hit her. "Did you tell her?"

"We're going to be telling people soon, and I figured you'd rather she be in the loop. When you told me you hadn't told her, I was surprised. I appreciate that this is our thing, but what you said about how our getting married means blending our family stuff stuck in my mind," he consented.

She sat back in surprise. "Wow."

He shrugged one shoulder. "It seemed like the right thing to do."

"Have you told your parents?" she asked quietly, stabbing at chicken curry without meeting his eyes until after she spoke the words.

His eyes warned that it wasn't a topic he had planned to leave open for discussion. "I'm sure they'll read the announcement in the paper after we tell Emily and Richard."

"I know my mother and I are the exception, but surely you want your parents to know that you're getting married," she offered, still trying to keep her tone gentle.

"I don't plan on keeping it from them, but I wouldn't expressly send my mother an invitation either. You can't have thought I'd want her there."

She fidgeted in place. "No, I guess not."

"Trust me, they attended my first wedding, and look how that turned out," he said, meaning to break any tension, but it only gave her thoughts another turn.

"Do you want to elope?" she asked in all seriousness.

"Rory, I'm a guy," he said plainly.

"I know you're a guy," she said with a sigh. "That's not an answer to my question."

"I want to marry you. I couldn't care less if we did it at the court house at lunch or in Fiji on a beach, or wherever you've always pictured getting married."

She shook her head and brought her hands over her heart. "But I haven't. I wasn't one of those girls who sat around dreaming about being a princess and planning out my dream wedding. My dream wedding when I was little was my mother and father's wedding," she explained honestly.

"We're quite a pair, aren't we?" he said with a smirk.

"So, what do we do?" she asked, not seeing a viable option that would please everyone she had in mind.

He smiled. "Whatever we want."

She had to return his expression. "What does that even mean?"

"That means, whatever suits us, we do. If you're really undecided, we can write down suggestions at random and flip a coin," he mused.

She stabbed some rice and shook her head. "We are not flipping a coin."

"Fine, let's be logical, since it's the only way to convince you of anything," he said, almost as if he were upping the ante.

"I'm not always logical," she countered.

He gave a half snort-half laugh, the likes of which nearly made him lose the water he'd not yet swallowed. "That was a joke, right? Or are you picking a fight with me to get me worked up for angry sex?"

"Neither," she said as she squared her shoulders. "I decided about my career, and if I'd been going off a purely logical pro/con list, it definitely would have suggested I take Logan up on his offer. In fact, that's exactly what it was saying until I realized there was something in the con column that made me have to say no. And it wasn't logical at all. But it was true."

She had his attention for certain then. He leaned in. "What's that?"

"I don't want to be half a world away from you. It doesn't matter what I'd be doing, I wouldn't be happy. So I officially turned him down. I'm going to talk to Jack this week, and now I can promise to continue on to Washington with him, and you, in four years."

He smiled, but didn't speak. She smiled back at him, and they sat there, like that for a moment. "I stand corrected. But I did have a thought-out plan prepared, primarily for your benefit."

She laughed. "Please, go on. I do enjoy a logical argument."

"Long engagements give the illusion of excessive preparation for the actual event."

She thought for a moment. "I'd agree with that, since neither of us are chronic procrastinators."

"A long engagement would also put a wedding within my term, under Jack, as Attorney General. That makes the event worthy of an instant page six headline."

"Ah, page six. The epitome of journalistic integrity," she cracked wise.

"That pairing is pretty much the stuff nightmares are made of."

"Unless you're Emily Gilmore," Rory corrected.

"Which you are not," he reminded. "You're two whole generations removed from the stand-behind-your-man era. Why start wearing crinolines now?"

She cringed. "Right."

He spied her curiously. "You wear crinolines?"

She shook her head. "No. I mean, I have. Once. As a favor."

"You wore a crinoline as a favor? To whom? The Queen?"

"I don't want to elaborate on my crinoline-wearing past."

One side of his mouth turned up in a satisfied manner as something occurred to him. "Does Lorelai have pictures?"

Rory sighed and closed her eyes. "Maybe."

When she opened her eyes, he was still giddy with very mental image that she'd revealed to him. "Wait. Have you worn any other stereotypically feminine attire that I should be aware of? Do you have a secret stash of bodices and corsets? Because I could be into that," he teased.

"I don't see how any of this is logical or pertains to our wedding," she said in a fervent attempt to dissuade him from the line of questioning. She just knew Lorelai was going to bring up the Donna Reed apron whenever he broached this topic to her mother.

"Fine," he said with a soft chuckle. "No corsets or long engagements. Agreed?"

"Agreed," she nodded easily.

"Which puts us at two months."

She jerked her head up and stared at him, hoping to tell if he was joking. He didn't appear to be, however. "Two months?"

"I'd get brought into office in January, just after Jack. The election is next week. That's two months. Almost three."

"You want to get married in two months?"

He considered the evaluation. "Within the next two months. Depending on how long a honeymoon you want to take."

Her mouth then dropped open, not to put food in it, but to openly gape at him again. "Two months doesn't sound logical at all," she said honestly.

"Do you want page six and crinolines?" he asked. "Because if you really want all that," he began.

She put her hand up to stop him. "No. Let's do it. Let's plan the honeymoon and then work backward from there."

He smiled at her again. "I love your logic."


	26. Happy Endings

Story Title: No Way Back

Chapter Title: Happy Endings

Description: Rory Gilmore gets tangled up in the other side of politics, but is she prepared to tangle with all it entails? Not if Tristan Dugrey has anything to say about it.

Rating: M

AN: So, this is the last 'chapter', but there will be an epilogue, which I hope to get to in the very near future. We're going on vacation soon, so no time promises, but soon. Soon. Thanks for reading, for reviewing and for being generally lovely readers.

Her eyelids popped open with a wealth of time to spare before her alarm clock was set to go off. It was a big day, and though in her life she'd experienced many big days, that did not take away the building excitement she felt. She was abuzz with anticipation, despite knowing there was nothing else she could do to change the outcome of the election, save for being sure to cast her own ballot. It was first to do on her already printed to-do list, which was posted on the outside of the refrigerator, and underlined three times in red ink. At some point after she posted it, Tristan had added three sarcastic exclamation points off to the side, but that did nothing to deter her rituals.

She took note that there was still over an hour before the earliest polling places opened, including the one she planned to frequent at which point she'd join Jack for his photo op during his own turn in the voting booth. From there on it was a waiting game, and what she hoped was an inevitable champagne toast in the wee hours of the following morning. It promised to be one of the longest days of her life. Nevertheless, she found herself unable to talk her body into falling back to sleep to accrue a reserve of much-needed rest. She flopped onto her back and gave a deep sigh as she gazed up at the ceiling.

"Freak," Tristan muttered from his position next to her, his face still half buried in his pillow.

She might have been insulted if he hadn't then snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her closer against his prone form.

She bit her lower lip and turned her blue eyes on him. "It's exciting. Even you have to admit, today is a big, exciting day," she cajoled him.

He, however, was not yet awake enough to be cajoled. "It's too early for excitement," he informed her. "If you come back in about an hour, I'll give you plenty to be excited about."

She rolled her eyes and poked his shoulder with her index finger. "I can't sleep. I just keep thinking that it's all out of our hands, and the only thing I can do now is vote."

He gave a sound that was either a groan or a moan, but it was too muffled into the pillow for her to be sure. Luckily for her, he had given up on her actually going back to sleep and rolled up to look her in the eyes, blue meeting blue in the grey light of the very, very early morning. She took a moment to give his appearance a once over and she found her hand drawn to his very messy hair.

"You have bedhead," she informed him.

"I'm in bed," he said with a yawn. "And until you insisted on waking the whole house, I was sleeping. I want to have bedhead right now."

She bit her lip. "I can leave you alone. I'll just take a shower and unpack in the library. We have to finish unpacking some time," she mused. "Unless you wouldn't be able to get back to sleep without me, or the thought of me unpacking by myself would give you some sort of guilt when you're lying in bed, lounging around."

He listened to her, his grin growing wider as she continued to speak. "Most people wouldn't classify sleeping in their own bed at four in the morning as lounging around. Most people, in fact, would consider someone getting up at four in the morning to unpack boxes of books a sign of some sort of mental illness."

"You're insulting me?" she asked, feigning hurt.

"I would be sleeping, but you put an end to that."

She crossed her arms and eyed him with contention. "I can't go back to sleep."

"I realize that," he said and with tremendous effort he lifted himself up onto his arms.

"What are you doing?" she asked, suspicious of his movement, given his degree of protest.

"It's too early to get out of this bed. And if we can't sleep, I can only really think of one other thing do to in bed," he postulated.

Her eyebrows rose hopefully. "Read?"

He shook his head slowly back and forth, his eyes trained on hers in the still meager natural light in the room. His hand found her elbow and he skimmed his fingers up her bare arm until he met fabric at her shoulder. His touch was feather light and he traced the strap around her body until he met it's attachment on her back. Finding no immediate way of disengaging it from that angle, he shifted and slid his hands under her back as he covered her body with his.

"Hi," she said with amusement. Her head was pressed down into the pillow as she gazed up at him, now directly over her.

"Hey," he said as he nudged his nose against hers. "This is going to be a big day," he said, finally acknowledging her earlier decree.

"Yeah," she breathed as she relished the feeling of his body pressing into hers.

"We should start it right," he said encouragingly.

"With a proper breakfast?" she teased.

"I was thinking more of how this will be a nice sort of bookend to the day," he corrected in between light kisses.

"Not that you're being presumptuous," she said as she held in a laugh. His fingers playing in her hair made it easier to take him more seriously. "But if today doesn't go well," she led.

He shook his head. "Trust me. We'll have plenty to celebrate at the end of today."

"Okay, now you sound presumptuous," she admitted.

He gave her a smile, a brief forewarning that assured her that she was about to have one very good reason to celebrate, before they ceased talking until the sun finally broke over the horizon.

XXXX

Rory emerged from the voting booth and walked over toward the exit after dropping her ballot in the box, turning to scan the area for Tristan. She'd gone ahead of him, after they'd waited in the surprisingly long line for the early hour. She'd tried to argue that it was a sign of a heavy voting turn out, but he informed her it was the pre-work crowd. The two times that were likely to be most crowded, he pointed out, were people trying to add in their civic duty before and after work, and those truly naïve people who were going to attempt to cram it into a lunch hour. Once he finally emerged, she caught his eye and they smiled at one another as he approached her. She held out a sticker, of which she'd already affixed to her own shirt.

"Is this my prize?" he asked.

"I don't have any cookies, so, yeah, I guess until later. Unless you count earlier," she said, musing at the memory of their pre-dawn hours.

"That was more like motivation," he said as he slid an arm around her waist and moved toward the exit.

"You were going to vote anyway," she said with an eye roll.

"Yeah, but not at six-thirty in the morning. I would have waited until noon, when we accompany Jack. And it's not like you're normally such an early riser," he said in his own defense.

"I am on important days," she said with a simple shrug. It was true that she wasn't an avid early riser, not like he was with his usual mind-clearing running behavior, which he'd been seemingly happy to skip that morning in lieu of other cardio-vascular activities.

He steered them not toward the main exit, but toward the inner hallway and elevators of the courthouse.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her brow furrowing at the change of direction.

"We have some time to kill, right?" he asked as he pushed the button for the elevator.

"Well, I guess, but I was thinking we could go get breakfast before we met Jack. And if we had time, maybe we could even drive out to Stars Hollow, to see how the turnout there is, and check in on my mom," she suggested as the doors opened and they stepped inside. He pressed the third floor button and stepped back.

"We'll have time for breakfast, but I doubt we can make it to Stars Hollow today, but we should probably head out there tomorrow for sure," he agreed.

"Why tomorrow?" she asked, still not getting exactly where he was taking her. "Where are we going?"

"I was looking over that list you gave me," he said evenly, just catching her gaze with a side-long glance.

"The list of places I've never been to?" she clarified.

"It's longer than I expected," he said with a smile.

"Well, there's a big, wide world out there," she said easily. "I'm but one girl with a limited travel budget."

He turned in toward her and let his eyes roam all over her. "You're much more than that."

She squeezed his hand at her loss for words. She never knew quite what to say when he complimented her in such an obvious way. Once upon a time, she would have assumed he was being sarcastic, but she'd come to learn that he meant every compliment he'd ever given her. He definitely wasn't into subtle when it came to her. "So you were looking at the list," she led.

"I was. And I made a couple of calls and put together an itinerary. Problem is, the places I included, they aren't the kind of places you can zip in and out of. So, it's going to be quite a long trip."

Her excitement was growing at an unprecedented pace, which was slightly uncalled for as she really had no idea if he was talking about taking her to Asia or the deep South. She'd never really been to much of her home country, let alone parts of the world that she'd need a translator to navigate through. "How long?"

He smiled. "Long enough that I started cross-referencing all the functions we'll have to attend after the election and before the inauguration," he continued to explain.

"I see I've rubbed off on you," she interjected proudly.

"Any man that wants to marry you has to be organized on his own," he informed her, giving her a knowing look. "And pretty much ready for anything."

She gave him a somewhat sheepish smile. "Fair enough."

"My question to you is, are you ready for anything?" he asked, turning the table on her.

"I'm fairly flexible," she said warily.

He smiled in a very knowing way, the likes of which caused her to flush. "Good."

The doors opened and he offered his arm. She took it and followed him as he headed down a hallway, apparently intent on their destination. "So, where are we going?"

"To see an old friend of the family," he said, still fairly evasive with his information.

"Your family? You don't even like your family, why would you want to see their friends?" she asked, not enjoying being completely in the dark.

"A friend of my grandfather. He's a judge," he offered. "He's also a shameless flirt when it comes to beautiful women, so be forewarned."

"I can see why the two of you would get along, then," she zinged him a little, to which he only gave her another grin.

"I'd like you to remember that you like me so much that you agreed to marry me," he said as they approached the closed door to the judge's office.

"Is he expecting us?" she asked, turning her attention to Tristan only after failing to be able to see through the opaque treatment on the glass on the judge's door.

He paused. "We've had a brief communication in which the likelihood of our dropping by was mentioned."

She narrowed her gaze at him. "What are you up to? Is this about your father?"

He shook his head and drew her in to him with both hands at her waist. "No. This has nothing to do with my father. This is just us."

Her eyes widened hopefully as she looked up at him. "Okay."

"Let's get married."

Her eyes opened a little wider, in shock. "Now?"

He nodded. "He agreed to waive the waiting period on the marriage license."

Her heart was pounding in her chest. The idea of marriage, even agreeing to the process, made it sound a little ways off. Never had she imagined that they'd just be able to walk through a door and come out as man and wife in a matter of minutes, without any forethought. She looked down at her nice work outfit, a blouse and skirt, a far cry from a wedding dress, and then up at the man in the suit standing before her. A suit like one of many he had in their closet.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, his expression now that of concern at her silence and thought as his hands remained at her hips.

"That I'm sort of under dressed for the occasion," she admitted, though she offered him a smile.

He smiled in relief. "You look beautiful."

"Says the man in the suit."

"That's a yes?" he asked, the hope in his eyes sparking into belief.

"Yes," she said, nodding in utter disbelief. "You're going to have to explain it to my family," she warned.

He smiled. "We'll be out of the country for a while," he assured her before he leaned in for a kiss. She held onto his face with both hands, extending the moment. After they pulled apart, she put her hand to her chest and took a deep breath. "You ready?" he asked.

She nodded and he knocked on the door. They heard the judge's voice offering them entrance, and he put his hand on the knob. "Here we go," he said as he looked at her one last time before they stepped into the office.

XXXX

There were cameras everywhere. She recognized most of the photographers and reporters on sight, without even getting close enough to read their press badges. She had been in close contact with the entire list of approved media in the last two weeks, to the point that they were all on a first-name basis, and more than one of them had offered to take her out for drinks or meet for lunch after this was all over. Jack was sailing through the crowd, shaking hands and offering his gratitude, and had been since they stepped out of the car at the curb. The constant barrage of flashes made her feel more than a little shell-shocked.

It probably didn't help that she still couldn't quite believe that by the time she'd sat down to breakfast that morning, she'd already voted for her boss to become governor and gotten married. It was a lot to take in, in one day, and it was barely half over.

"Jack, this way," she beckoned, channeling him to the first of his promised interviews.

"Have you heard anything about the voter turnout yet? I know it's early, but these people love their projections," he said, catching her ear.

"It's huge. I tried to tell Tristan that this morning," she said, casting an accusatory look his way.

"You want my sticker?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her playfully.

She rolled her eyes and kept her focus on Jack. "Go do your interview. Then you can vote, take a thousand more pictures, and we have two interviews more before we leave," she informed him.

"Your job is never done, is it?" he asked.

"Let's hope not," she said good-naturedly as she turned him in the right direction to shake hands and stepped back to Tristan, who was texting.

"Making an announcement?" she asked, not looking at his screen.

"Hah. You think I actually want to be quartered?" he asked in amusement.

"Judge Waters is a friend of your grandfather's, you don't think he'd call him, do you?"

"We'll be fine until tomorrow," he assured her again. "I'm just feeling out some early projections," he held up his phone.

"Right, all your connections," she nodded.

His hand found hers. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she said, trying to shake off her sense of disconnect. "Yes," she said as she looked into his eyes. "I'm just…" she trailed off.

"After this we have some down time," he promised. "That hour I insisted on before the gathering at the campaign headquarters," he reminded her.

"That's free?" she asked. "I assumed you had some other agenda," she sighed in relief. "Good. The cameras and noise are getting to me, and right now all I really want to do is," she said before he cut her off.

"I told you, we were going to want to bookend the day," he said in a whisper into her ear before he kissed her temple.

"How long were you planning on our little pit stop?" she asked, suddenly quite curious.

"The break was for Jack. I only had our additional errand in mind for the last couple of days, after I started planning out trip in earnest. Which I believe you'll now find a copy of the itinerary for in your email, when you get a chance to check it," he said with a gleam in his eyes. She reached for her own phone, but didn't get a chance to do anything as Jack returned and called them both back to active duty.

She didn't have the opportunity to take a moment to check her email until they were back in the car, after all the photo ops for potentially historic moments had been taken. Jack and Tristan were deep in conversation as she settled into her seat and opened the email on her phone. She saw the cities he'd chosen and in a brief moment any and all niggling doubts she'd had about stealing away to marry Tristan in such a spontaneous way were gone. He'd planned the perfect honeymoon for his new wife. She reread the email, during which she caught his eye as he continued to talk shop with Jack. She gave him a huge smile, which he returned as he realized, no doubt, what she was viewing.

XXXX

The early returns were in, and Tristan had been on the phone with McKerney's campaign manager for the last half hour. Jack came into the room and closed the door to Tristan's office, to which she looked up and offered him a smile.

"Anything firmed up?" he asked.

"He should know something definite when he gets off the phone. McKerney might be stalling, but you're killing the early returns."

"How solid?" he asked.

"Seventy-thirty."

"Do they know the percentage reporting?"

Rory shook her head. "They're saying that voter turnout was up ten percent from the last election, so they think maybe a third of the total is in and accounted for."

Jack sat back. "It's too bad we can't break out the booze now," he admitted. "Waiting's the worst."

"Tristan said he'd drag his feet," she said soothingly.

"It's what he does best," Jack mused. "How are you at waiting?"

"Awful, apparently," she said with an uneven laugh. She'd not told a soul all day that she was a newlywed, and an impromptu bride as it were. She'd barely gotten used to the fact that she was engaged. She was ready to celebrate and to just tell someone what they'd done, and the hours were starting to drag by. They were hoping to start the celebration by ten o'clock that evening, and they weren't even ready to order dinner yet. "Are you going to get to celebrate with your son?"

Jack smiled. "I have scheduled a trip with him after things settle down next month. Tristan tells me the two of you have quite a trip planned for your honeymoon. When are you guys going to find time to get married?"

Rory bit her lip and hesitated for just a moment. "Actually, we already did."

Jack's face cleared in surprise. "When?"

She smiled. "This morning. We voted, then we got married."

"That's," he shook his head and stopped. "Congratulations."

She gave an uneasy laugh and accepted the hug he gave her. "Thanks. It's sort of still registering."

"I feel terrible that you've had to spend your wedding day hand holding me," he said with a cringe.

"No, that's what today was supposed to be about. The getting married, it was totally spontaneous."

"I am very happy for the two of you. When he gets off the phone, you two head out to dinner together, alone. I insist."

She shook her head. "No! We're supposed to be here for you, waiting it all out."

"Rory, you got married today. You should have dinner with your husband. I'll be fine on my own for a couple of hours. Then we can crack open all the champagne and celebrate it all, together."

Tristan came around the desk, now fresh off the phone. "You told him?" he asked, hesitantly.

"Someone had to be first to know," she informed him.

"Seriously, go have dinner with your wife," Jack pointed to the door.

Tristan held up the phone. "Don't you want to know what's going on over there?"

"Did he concede yet?" Jack asked knowingly.

Tristan shook his head. "He wants to wait until they're at sixty percent of the vote in."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Then you two have time for dinner. Take her somewhere romantic, for God's sake. Don't talk about the election."

"That sounded like an order," Rory said, surprised.

"It is. Take your time. McKerney can only drag his feet so long, but he'll wait until we're at sixty-five before he gives us any satisfaction of an early night, so get out of here."

"Sounds good to me," Tristan said, turning to his bride. "Shall we?"

Rory smiled, not needing to be told or asked twice. "Let's go."

XXXX

Rory smiled up at the familiar ceiling, her body half tangled in a mess of sheets and limbs. Her leg was half over his thigh and her heart was still pounding her chest. "That was so much better than dinner."

"It's on its way. I ordered a pizza," he said, his own breath still coming harder than normal.

"How romantic," she mused.

"Just be glad I still had my keys on me. It would have taken longer to get checked into a hotel, and I've been wanting to do that since we left the judge's office," he admitted in reference to his old apartment, which he still was in ownership of until the end of that month.

"You made that perfectly clear earlier," she assured him, referring to the way he'd nearly tackled her in the back of the limo during their free hour.

"I'm just trying to set the right mood for our marriage," he assured her.

"Sex before food?" she inquired.

"That pretty much covers it," he said as he ran his hand up her bare thigh, which was still draped over his leg.

"Think we're really going to win?" she asked.

"I thought that's what we just did," he teased her, lifting his head up off the pillow just far enough to look at her.

She smacked an open hand down on his stomach. "You know what I mean."

He flopped his head down. "Yeah. McKerney's just dragging his feet. Can't accept defeat. It's like a guy on death row, hoping for that final reprieve that isn't coming. Everything is down to referendums that might or might not get passed and how that will come into play in our term."

"I don't know how you do it. You're so certain and your mind is working five months in the future, but you don't show it."

He turned his head and looked at her. "I promise to be in the moment on the honeymoon. And I admit, even I'm having a little trouble focusing on anything but you today."

She bit her lip as she smiled. "Good. And the honeymoon, it sounds amazing. I've always wanted to go to Fez," she admitted.

"It was on your list," he reminded her.

"I know, but that list was exhaustive. And Fez would have been enough, but Dubai, and Casablanca," she said dreamily.

"The look on your face proves to me I chose wisely."

"It might be too much," she warned.

He shook his head. "We have the time, we have the means. I'd rather spend my money taking you to all the places you've always wanted to see than anything else. I kept the list, by the way, and we'll finish it off."

She leaned up on her elbows as she gaped down at him. "That list was crazy long."

He shrugged. "Is it complete?" he asked.

"Yes, which is why it was ridiculously long. We can't possibly get to all those places."

"Why not?" he asked, truly curious as to her reasoning.

She blinked and pushed some hair off her shoulder. "We have jobs and lives and responsibilities."

"But we'll also have vacations and the rest of our lives to get to it," he reminded her, as he took her left hand in his. "There was that one line about as long as we both shall live earlier," he reminded her.

"I remember," she said with an easy grin.

"Good. So we start in the Mid-East."

"Apparently so."

He slid his arm out around her shoulders and rolled her up on top of his body. She shook her hair out around them as she leaned over his upper body. "Do you think it'll always be like this?"

"Like what?" he asked, his hands beginning to roam over the expanse of her body that was so much more accessible to him in that position.

"Spontaneous and exciting. Everything seems to be moving so fast—not that that's a bad thing, it just seems like it might be hard to maintain," she explained.

"My plan is to keep going after what I want, until I'm out of things to want. I'm never going to stop wanting you," he said, as if that might be what she was concerned about.

"Let's hope you feel that way by the time we get to Casablanca," she said before giving him a kiss.

"Isn't that also the name of a movie or something?" he asked.

She stared blankly. "That was a joke, right?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but seemed to think better of it. "I'm in for one of those movie nights your mom keeps referring to, aren't I?"

"I think that's for the best," she said before putting the gaping hole in his cultural knowledge on the back burner. They still had time left on their romantic dinner allowance, and time before dinner showed up.

XXXX

Most everyone in the crowd was suitably tipsy, save for a few designated drivers and Jack, who still had to make his official acceptance speech. He had gotten off the phone with McKerney no less than ten minutes prior, as he still maintained a seventy-five percent lead after sixty-two percent of the votes had been tabulated. Rory couldn't help but beam as she watched Jack shake hands and make his way through the crowd of reporters and staffers, leading up to a final speech that would go live for the entire state to see in a few moments' time. She had of course gone over draft after draft of both acceptance and just-in-case concession speeches, and she felt no anxiety after his history of nearly flawless deliveries that this, too, would go off without a hitch. She was so relaxed, in fact, she was already on her second glass of champagne, all of which had been uncorked after Jack hung up with McKerney and informed everyone via a very excited announcement that 'we did it!'.

Before she could finish her second glass, Tristan had come around with a bottle, topping off her still-half-full glass. "Trying to get me drunk?" she asked innocently.

"Yes," he answered, not looking quite so innocent.

"You'll get lucky tonight, no matter my state of inebriation."

"You think I can get luckier than I currently am?" he posed.

She shook her head and put her glass down so she could slip her arms around his neck. "Well, you did achieve your prime objective today," she admitted.

"Marrying you?" he said with a raise of one eyebrow.

She shook her head. "Don't you remember our first official meeting for this job? My only focus was to get Jack elected."

"And you did a bang-up job," he assured her. "Even if perhaps you got a little distracted now and then."

"If you didn't want me distracted, you shouldn't have kissed me," she said in her own defense.

"Yeah, well, it seems I only have so much self-control when it comes to kissing you," he said, as if he was letting her in on a well-kept secret.

"I'm okay with that," she said, letting him in on her own secret.

He did just that, and he had a playful look in his eyes as he pulled away. "You should call your mom."

She eyed him curiously. "To tell her our news? Now?"

He shook his head. "Word is that there's a hold up from their township; they're not reporting their votes, and they should have been in by now. I figure you can get the low down faster than anyone else."

She rolled her eyes. "I can almost promise you it's either Taylor or Kirk," she said with as much certainty as Jack had in his win.

"I'm just saying. It's not like I expect Stars Hollow to tip the vote, but the county can't call it until all the townships are in, so if you want exact numbers, and I know you do," he led, teasing her.

"Fine. I'll call Mom. Should I tell her? About us? I mean, if they are having some sort of tabulating nightmare," she said anxiously.

He waved a hand. "We'll go see her tomorrow and have brunch at the Dragonfly. She can regale us with all the details, and we'll slip our news in at the end."

She put her hand to her forehead. "That's exactly how Lorelai would tell Emily this kind of thing."

He smiled sheepishly. "Sorry."

She gave him another eye roll and pulled out her phone. "I'll call her now. Just go check on Jack and see how all the other reports are coming in. He should be able to make his speech soon; it looks like everyone else is ready for him."

He gave her a mock salute and went to do as requested. She downed the rest of her glass and moved outside with her cell for a little peace and quiet to make her call.

It sounded like some sort of madhouse on her mother's end of the line, however, so it seemed like she shouldn't have bothered with the change of scenery. "Mom?"

"What? Rory?" Lorelai half-shouted into the phone.

"Yes! What's going on? Tristan says there's some sort of problem with your reporting."

"You wouldn't believe it if I told you… well, maybe you'd believe it. Long story short, Kirk went into the voting booth with Lulu, and Taylor ran to the ballot box after they submitted their ballots and stole the box, claiming that as town selectman, he was calling a do-over on a count of vote tampering. I pointed out that he was the one doing the tampering, since Kirk was going to vote the way his mother instructed him to, regardless of voting in the same space as Lulu or not. But a rule's a rule, and Taylor hid the ballot box, so we sent Jackson out with a megaphone in Joe's pizza truck, and we're trying to get everyone to come back and recast their ballots."

"Oh my God," Rory said, with only a blink as a reaction. "Tell me you've reprimanded Taylor."

"Well, I tried to getting Luke to make a citizen's arrest, but apparently as town selectman Taylor had the right to declare a re-vote. And it turns out that as the official voting bitty apparently the only real power I'm afforded is handing out pamphlets and stickers. Oh, and the little tiny golf pencils."

"You thought you'd have power?" Rory asked, amused.

"It sounded so official. Luke says I need to ease my way into town business, but I've been silently pulling strings around here for years. I'm like one of those puppet masters. I'm just so good, no one realizes I'm doing it."

"I'm sorry, did you say you were silent while doing something?" Rory inquired.

"Are you kicking me while I'm down? Because this is a disaster. They're going to strip me of my stickers and little pencils. I let Taylor and Kirk best me. I was supposed to be in charge. All we had to do was collect the ballots and keep them safe for tabulation. I'm never going to get to be one of the two-hundred year old ladies who preside over this event. I'm going to have to find some other way to spend my old age."

"I'm sure you'll come up with something, Ms. Puppet Master. So, when should I tell Tristan that we're likely to hear from you?"

"We've estimated that the last of the re-voters are on their way back in now. I hope to have a Kirk- and Taylor-free box ready to go in just over an hour."

"That was fast. How did you get things turned around so quickly?"

"Sookie and Luke are at the diner, making pie to give free as a reward for getting a move on and rectifying the situation."

"I think for that, they'll let you keep your pencils," Rory assured her.

"We'll see. I might get lucky, if no one else wants to deal with Kirk's mayhem and another little old lady kicks it."

"That's the spirit," Rory said. "Oh, hey, by the way, Tristan and I are coming to Stars Hollow tomorrow."

"To take away my pencils?" Lorelai asked knowingly, with a certain amount of alarm.

"No! To see you. To have brunch. To hear all the details that will ruminate in your mind after you get some sleep and put the finishing touches on this story."

"Are you saying I'll fabricate some of this at a later date?"

"You know, I should really get back inside. Jack's itching to address his adoring public."

"Fine. I'll get back to my adoring public, who are really just interested in free pie."

"I hope this is the non-dirty variety pie," Rory said with eyes squeezed shut.

"As much as it pains me to admit, not every moment that I spend in Luke's presence is in some way sexual."

Rory chewed on her lip, many moments that were highly contrary to her mother's proclamation flashing before her eyes. "I'm not so sure about that, but I'm glad that you're discussing real pie this time."

"Go find Tristan. I'm sure he'll want to be near you the moment Jack can claim victory and the alcohol starts flowing."

"In all honesty, the alcohol's been free-flowing for a while. It's been quite a day."

"And I can't wait to hear your fabrication tomorrow. Go celebrate, Sweetie. You deserve it."

"Thanks, Mom."

Rory hung up, with the words, 'And by the way, I got married today,' on her lips. She took a deep breath, realizing that Tristan was right, and that there was no way her mom wouldn't be happy for her. It had always been strange, to be an adult and somewhat removed from the insanity that was the town in which she was raised. But she was separate from it, and she and Tristan would create a new way of living that was unique to them. That would involve travel and hard work and even harder play. They would revolve around politics and dip and out of their families' lives, be it in Stars Hollow or Hartford, or dealing with his father's past via more court proceedings. It all lay ahead of them, the good and the bad. She looked up as the door opened and he slipped outside.

"Jack's ready. You shouldn't miss this," he said with an easy smile.

"Mom's got things under control. They'll have things set to go soon."

"Even if every registered voter in Stars Hollow voted for McKerney, which is doubtful," he led, "it wouldn't close the gap, let alone send it his way. You are officially on staff with the Governor of Connecticut."

"And the wife of the Attorney General of Connecticut," she reminded as he closed the distance between them.

"Without making page six," he added for her benefit, as well as his.

"We certainly did it, didn't we?" she asked, gazing up into his blue eyes, which were lit up with a happiness even she'd never seen in them before.

"That we did. Come on. If I'm going to properly celebrate this, I need you in there."

"There are far too many people in there for that," she admonished playfully.

He chuckled and his nose grazed through her hair along the side of her head. He stopped to bury his face against her for a moment. "All in good time. The moment I get you home," he said with a promising tone.

"We have all the time in the world," she said with equally amounts of promise, as she raised herself up on her toes to kiss him fully on the mouth. "Let's get inside. You're right-we shouldn't miss a second of this."

He gave a groan of submission as she pulled away from him, and he caught her hand as they made their way back to the door. He grabbed the handle and held it open for her, never letting go for a second as they took their places up just off to Jack's side as he began to greet his crowd of well-wishers and supporters, for the first time as the Governor elect.


	27. Epilogue

Story Title: No Way Back

Chapter Title: Epilogue

Description: Rory Gilmore gets tangled up in the other side of politics, but is she prepared to tangle with all it entails? Not if Tristan Dugrey has anything to say about it.

Rating: M

AN: Here we are, the last chapter. This has been such a fun story to write and I'm sorry to see it end. You guys have been so lovely and encouraging and interactive. I thank you immensely. I'm glad to see Trory still out there, being read and written. I hope you enjoy this last little peek into their story.

Tristan sat on the edge of the bed, ninety-nine percent ready to walk out the door. Instead of engaging in the one activity that would complete the act of preparing to exit the house, he was reading the newspaper. He'd been banished from the master bathroom, his wife citing the fact that he was at best a distraction after he so graciously slipped into the shower to aid her in preparing for the evening.

When she finally did emerge, preceded by a rush of warm air that had been trapped in the smaller room, she was herself about ninety-nine percent ready to walk out the door as well. She stopped short when she took note of his relaxed pose.

"What are you doing?" she asked, using both arms to hold her unzipped dress up around her torso.

He lifted his head and took in the sight of her. Her hair was done, her make-up carefully applied, and the dress she was holding against her torso ready to slide right off her freshly preened body. "Currently I'm thinking that we could be just a little late."

She frowned. "And I'm rethinking asking your help with my dress."

He smiled wider. "It looks fine to me. Besides, something tells me that if you could zip it by yourself, you already would have."

"Is that why your tie isn't done?" she asked, indicating his own finishing touch still left to be performed.

He shook his head as he laid the folded newspaper on the bed next to him and stood to walk to her. He circled around behind her and put one hand at her hip and the other at the base of her tailbone, where the zipper originated. He slowly eased the implement up her back, his other hand trailing up the side her body at the same rate.

"No," he admitted. "I can do it myself."

"Then why haven't you? The car will be here any minute to get us," she reminded him, her tone only slightly impatient. She hated being late, but he found it impossible to hurry through any moment that involved easy access to her skin and uninterrupted intimacy.

"I like it when you do it," he said, kissing her bare shoulder once the task of zipping her into her dress and securing the tiny hook that she never would have affixed on her own was complete.

She turned to face him and shot him a look of consternation, but her hands immediately rose to grip the edges of fabric that hung loosely around his neck. "What were you reading?" she asked as she began the practiced movements of moving one side over the other to form the perfect bow.

He gazed down at her as her focus narrowed to his collar and her own handiwork. He smiled at the intensity she put into the task. He stood still, rather than touching her, which would have definitely thrown her off her game—a fact of which he was rather proud. "Page Six."

Her hands stilled for a second and her eyes lifted to his in momentary horror. "Us?"

He shook his head and a sigh escaped her and her hands began tugging on his tie again. "No, but it is someone we know."

She cocked one eyebrow. "Robert?"

Tristan chuckled. "He wishes."

Rory grinned at that. It was true. Most women Robert managed to ensnare were loath to actually being caught seen out with him, even after his recent success of getting a qualified candidate elected to public office, that had no mafia ties and no familial relation. "That he does. He's the most hopeful pessimist I've ever encountered."

She stepped back to inspect her finished product, and he forward again to use his hands to ease her back against him. His lips met hers quickly and appreciatively. "Thank you," he murmured against her.

She smiled and glanced down before meeting his eyes. "You didn't even look at it yet."

"I don't need to check your work," he said, stepping to grab the paper to hand over to her.

She held the creased paper in one hand and skimmed the headline-like articles for a mention of a familiar name. It wasn't words that caught her attention at first, but rather one of the few photographs that accompanied the rag-like featurette. She gave a little gasp.

"Oh."

He raised an eyebrow as he watched her reaction. "I wasn't sure you'd want to see that."

She looked up and met his eyes. "What? No, it's fine. It's just not what I was expecting."

Her eyes went back to the black-and-white photo and the blurb used to describe it, though the way the pair in the photo was canoodling left little to the imagination and no need for explanation. He didn't take the paper from her, but he was still questioning his judgment in presenting it to her. "What were you expecting?"

"Huh? Oh, well, us."

He frowned. "I told you, no one knows we're married; well, except Lorelai and probably a good portion of the residents of Stars Hollow and last I checked the _Courant_ wasn't picking up stories from the _Stars Hollow Gazette_," he said. "We're not news, past the political page. Page six is far more interested in your ex and his exploits."

"It seems that is the case."

"Hey, at least he's over you, right?" Tristan said, trying to get a pin on her exact emotion.

"I'm pretty sure that's just another Tuesday night," she said tersely.

"Shouldn't he be spending his Tuesday nights in California?" Tristan asked.

"He's bi-coastal now, remember?" she said with a hint of … something.

"I shouldn't have shown you," he said, taking it from her hands and tossing it back on the bed.

She put her hands into both of his. "No, it's fine. Weird, maybe, a little," she admitted.

"You aren't regretting turning him down, are you?" he asked, the question having been on the back burner in his mind. The buzz of being a newlywed and a newly elected team had definitely overridden any concerns he'd had to that point, to say the least. It was harder to ignore when it was staring out from the newspaper at them.

"Of course not! I might not be done with journalism forever," she admitted, which was something they had discussed in depth, "but it's not my focus now. As for Logan," she said with a sigh as she smiled into Tristan's eyes, "I'm perfectly content with the man in my life. I don't have any regrets about with whom I've ended up."

"And you're ready to tell Emily?" he asked after her lips met his in a kiss that was reassuring, but not quite enough to remove her lipstick.

She smiled. "Actually, Mom asked me if she could break the news."

He laughed. "But you're not going to let her, are you?"

She shook her head. "I find that indulging Mom when she gets that glint in her eye in regard to Grandma tends to end in some sort of bloodshed. She finds glee in making Grandma uncomfortable."

"You'd feel the same way if your mother had forced you to wear uncomfortable outfits and sit still for hours on end while listening to her stuffy friends and picking at weird food," Tristan pointed out.

She tilted her head. "That's probably where it stems from. I never thought of that."

He put a fist to his chest. "I'm a survivor of that world, you forget."

"I do. You seem so well-adjusted," she teased him and put a hand to his cheek. "But I hate to tell you, you're still sort of in that world, Mr. Attorney General."

He rolled his eyes. "I would never make my own kid do any of that stuff. Kids should get to eat hamburgers and watch cartoons in another room, not be forced to listen to a discussion on the political ramifications of countries that they can't find on a globe."

She paused in surprise. "You think about that stuff?"

He hesitated as well, once again trying to assess her reaction. "Globes?"

"No," she said without blinking, or breathing for that matter. "Kids."

"Is there a wrong answer here?" he asked, not having planned on the discussion to have come up quite so early in their marriage.

She shook her head. "No. At least, I don't think so. It's something we should talk about, right?"

He eased his bottom lip through his teeth. "There was a time that I thought about it a lot. Before," he said with meaning, which she instantly picked up on. It was the kind of topic that she'd never wanted to press him on, after all he'd been through with his first disastrous marriage.

"Oh, right, of course," she said, her gaze fluttering up from the floor and not quite to his eyes.

"For a long time after that, I just took the option off the table. It wasn't something I saw myself having to worry about," he continued.

She squeezed his hand, wiling him to stop if it was a subject he wasn't ready to deal with. She was in no hurry to make a decision on that front, that was for sure. Their immediate future was no place for a baby, in her eyes. But then again, all she'd ever pictured in her future was a working environment that wasn't conducive to either a husband or a child. Now she couldn't imagine not having Tristan in her life. Her mother had always said the same thing about her; she'd never planned on having Rory when she did, but she couldn't fathom not having her in her life. She'd always thought it was something mothers had to say. She was starting to see that it was just the truth. "We don't have to make any decisions now," she assured him.

"I just want you to know that it's back on the table for me. For us," he said with confidence. "When we're ready."

She felt her stomach flutter at both the sentiment and the nervousness of the very idea of having a child. She smiled at him, glad that he felt the same way she did. It wasn't something they were in a hurry for, but they'd both come a long way from their former selves to even be taking it under consideration.

"We should get downstairs. The car should be here by now," she reminded him.

"Let's go celebrate," he said, offering his arm to her as they made their way out to the hired car.

XXXX

"I could get used to this," Lorelai announced as she accepted yet another glass of champagne from a waiter.

"What did you just say?" Emily Gilmore asked, more than slightly taken aback.

"It's a little fancier than my taste, but I have to say, this is a pretty swanky party," Lorelai admitted as she glanced around appreciatively.

"Is that some sort of joke, Lorelai?"

"No, Mom, I'm saying, and not just because my kid is partially responsible for all this, it's pretty great to be a part of celebrating the win of a governor from the inside like this."

"You could have had 'all this' all along, Lorelai," Emily glowered at her.

"What?" Lorelai asked, holding back the inquiry into just what kind of influence her mother might be under.

"I tried to set you up years ago with Daniel Cromwell," Emily said with exasperation, "but you would have none of it."

"Danny Cromwell? From tenth grade?" Lorelai laughed and held one hand to her chest to try to stifle the movement of her body so as not to spill any of her drink. "He wore headgear and was more into Wham! than I was."

"What's Wham?" Emily asked.

"Ask George Michael," Lorelai retorted quickly.

"I don't know who George Michael is, but I can tell you that Daniel Cromwell is now a Congressman from Massachusetts," Emily said haughtily, showing off her clearly superior taste for having sought out a good match at such a young age. "And his teeth are perfectly fine now."

"And does he currently live with a domestic partner with equally nice teeth?" Lorelai asked.

"I'm sure he has hired help," Emily corrected, obviously mistaking the nomenclature.

Lorelai laughed again. "No, Mom, I mean, he likes men. I said no to that set up because he had no interest in me based on the fact that I lacked a Y chromosome."

"He's not a homosexual, he's a Republican!" Emily admonished.

"Fine, then he's a closeted homosexual and most likely a pool boy," Lorelai said with a toss of her booze-free hand up into the air.

"Is that supposed to be funny, Lorelai?"

"I think she was mainly serious, Grandma," Rory finally broke in, much to Tristan's dismay.

"Oh, please," Emily dismissed the idea on principle. "At least I don't have to worry about setting you up with anyone," she smiled proudly at her accomplished and attached granddaughter.

"Um, hello, remember Luke? That guy I've been with for years now?" Lorelai asked aloud, to mostly deaf ears. Rory smiled and ducked her chin momentarily. The fact that the opportunity for a segue into making her bigger announcement had arisen was something she was happy to ignore at the moment.

"Yes, Lorelai, I remember Luke. Vividly," Emily said with reproach. "But tonight is not about you. It's about Rory and her accomplishments."

"Actually, it's about Jack," Rory corrected.

"Not in Gilmore-World, it's not," Lorelai said from behind the lip of her glass.

"Is it safe to leave you ladies on your own?" Tristan asked, mostly Rory as he stood at her side, one arm easily wrapped around her waist. He'd been listening with great amusement to the volley of words between the two women.

"I can referee," she assured him as her eyes glinted at him in a long, side-view. He kissed her cheek and took his exit.

"He's certainly done well for himself," Emily said after he disappeared into the crowd.

"Yes, he has," Rory agreed, wary of her grandmother's exuberance.

"I know the two of you will have an increasingly heavy social schedule," she led again.

"That's true, I suppose," Rory agreed lightly. She did not dare look at her mother, who was trying to signal the current threat level using only her eyes.

"So it might be best if you give me a list of your availability in the next few weeks," Emily finished.

Rory then made direct eye contact with her mother, feeling her heartbeat increase faster than it should have. "Uh, what for, Grandma?"

"For a party of course, to have our own celebration for you and Tristan," Emily explained in a tone that made it clear that Rory should have been expecting such plans. "Your grandfather and I insist upon showing the two of you off to all our friends."

"You know, Mom, that might be kind of hard to arrange," Lorelai began on her daughter's behalf, out of habit and ingrained defense mechanisms.

"You don't want to celebrate your daughter's accomplishments?" Emily turned to Lorelai.

"Of course I do. That's why where here, drinking champagne in our fancy clothes. There's no need to do it again," Lorelai tried.

"Well, you never know. There could be other reasons that crop up, that should also be celebrated," Emily said coyly, as if she had insider knowledge.

"Like what, Grandma?" Rory asked, still leery of the timing of the conversation they were skirting.

Emily leaned in and brought her glass by her side. "That man is going to propose to you¸ and I would imagine he's going to do it soon."

Rory and Lorelai exchanged another look, which seemed to ruffle Emily's feathers. "What makes you think that, Mom?" Lorelai asked, trying to get Rory enough time to excuse herself with a made-up emergency to attend to if she were quick enough.

"He bought her a house, Lorelai. And Richard told me that he made her the benefactor of his inheritance. You simply don't do things like that if you aren't intending to get married. Well, most people don't," she said with an undertone of irritation toward her daughter. "And he told me that he was happy to let things progress naturally, and he didn't want to push Rory into anything she wasn't ready for. Clearly that means he is ready."

"Maybe he was talking about getting a puppy," Lorelai invented up a diversionary topic.

"He was not talking about getting a puppy. He wants to marry Rory. You do want to marry him, don't you? Oh, God," Emily said suddenly, fear striking her. "Lorelai Leigh Gilmore, tell me you aren't going to say no to him, too."

It was almost comical, the way she'd clutched her heart and fixated on Rory and her lack of immediate response. It seemed that despite the venue, she was prepared to have a very loud and public reaction to the news she was imagining.

"Mom, calm down! This is not the place for one of your meltdowns," Lorelai said, gripping her mother's arm and speaking to her in hushed, but firm tones.

"I do not have meltdowns," Emily snapped at her.

"Do you remember Gran's funeral?" Lorelai argued. "The smoking, the drinking, the bedclothes for all to see?"

"Oh, please. Funerals are stressful," Emily played it off.

"So are weddings, which is why not everyone wants one," Lorelai said meaningfully.

Emily's eyes widened and focused on her granddaughter. "You can't keep doing this, young lady. You can't keep telling men like Logan Huntzberger and Tristan Dugrey no. This isn't a game, it's your future!"

Rory wished she'd downed a few more glasses of champagne before she'd met up with her family. She wondered if this was how Tristan had always felt about his family. His appearance after his grandmother's funeral made perfect sense now, in retrospect. "Grandma, I didn't want to marry Logan. Certainly not when I was twenty-two," she said gently.

"You're definitely old enough to know better now," Emily said snappishly. Rory was surprised she didn't come right out and call her an old maid.

She managed to keep her calm and continue. "I don't want to marry Logan now, either," she said will all assurance.

"I don't think that's an offer you're likely to receive twice," Emily said with a saddened sigh. Her eyes snapped back to Rory. "Is it?"

"I don't need a back-up offer," Rory shook her head.

"Wait, he didn't offer, did he?" Lorelai asked, slightly surprised.

"Not outright," Rory said with a slight worrying of her bottom lip.

"What's going on here?" Emily demanded. "Exactly who has proposed to you and how many times?"

"Well, for starters, Tristan did propose," Rory admitted, starting at the lesser of two pieces of information she'd yet to disclose to most people.

Emily's eyebrows shot up. "And?"

Rory smiled. "And I accepted."

Emily glanced from Rory to Lorelai, her smile fading as she made her way back to search her granddaughter's face. "You do plan on going through with the wedding, don't you?"

"Waiter! More champagne over here!" Lorelai called out.

"To celebrate?" Emily asked.

"Why don't we let Rory finish?" Lorelai suggested.

"There's more?" Emily asked hopefully.

"Well, yeah," Rory said with a light clearing of her throat. "We're going to be pretty busy, like you said," she said, trying to get Emily on her side a little pre-emptively. "So we thought it would be better if we just went ahead and got married."

Emily's expression froze. "You did what?"

"Undo it, undo it, undo it," Lorelai muttered under her breath to her daughter.

"You want me to get a divorce?" Rory asked, under her breath as well.

"No, but you could tell her you had to for some legitimate reason," Lorelai suggested.

"Why would we have to get married?" Rory began, but Emily cut in.

"Are you pregnant?" she demanded.

"No! We didn't have to get married out of a sense of obligation. We just did it. It was sort of romantic," she said with a happy grin.

"See, Mom? They're in love. Just two crazy kids. Who, I might add, will be in charge of the state in a few months."

"Jack will be in charge," Rory interjected again.

"Not the way I tell it," Lorelai corrected her. "I'm your mother and I get to brag about my daughter. And son-in-law, I guess."

"Grandma? Say something," Rory asked, concerned at Emily's sudden silence.

"Don't ruin a good thing," Lorelai said, again under her breath.

"I just don't see why I'm the last to know," Emily said at last.

"You're not! You're the second," Rory said quickly. "And Tristan told Mom, so really, you're the first person I've told, personally."

Emily's expression brightened. "Is this true?"

"Absolutely. Tristan's totally vying for favorite child. Or else we just have an even deeper connection than Rory and I have, which is a little disturbing now that I think of it," Lorelai frowned before taking another sip from her glass.

"We are going to tell people. And we'll have a party," Rory assured Emily.

"Well, I'll take care of all of that. You're so busy. I can have announcements printed and find a suitable venue. You can get me dates that work for you."

"Why do I get the feeling we could have avoided this whole situation if you'd just given her dates when she first asked?" Lorelai asked aloud.

"I should go meet with Jack and see if Tristan found him," Rory said, ready to make her escape.

"Fine, flee. You've given us plenty to discuss in your absence," Lorelai said with a kiss to her daughter's cheek, before she took off through the crowd of well-wishers.

XXXX

"You told her?" Tristan asked with a shake of his head.

"I had to!" Rory defended. "She was going to ream me for potentially breaking your heart."

He smiled smugly. "Really?"

"Don't be so pleased with yourself. You're not the first of my suitors to charm Emily Gilmore."

"That may be, but I will be the last," he said by way of offering her perspective.

"At least we don't have to plan our own reception. Between the honeymoon and the prep work for taking office," she led.

"I suppose I should tell you, in the nature of full disclosure, that I told my grandfather," he admitted.

"What? When?" she asked, surprised.

"Tonight. Technically, it was both of our grandfathers. They tag teamed me. It really couldn't have been helped. Jack offered his congratulations to Richard, apparently."

Rory shook her head at the absurdity that was her life. "We were outed by the Governor-elect. We don't have normal problems, do we?"

He gave a chuckle. "I suppose that's a correct assessment. Speaking of which, I started working with the current administration and we have a warrant out for Jack's ex-stepfather's arrest. We delivered enough evidence to the DA to reopen Jack's ex-girlfriend's disappearance case. There's a whole deal with extradition, but the process is started, which is something."

"Did you ask your father to testify?" she asked.

He let out a breath. "His lawyer sent an offer, in exchange for not bringing new charges his way."

"News travels fast in prison," Rory observed.

"Faster than on the outside," he agreed. He hesitated before continuing. "I can't let him off the hook for this."

"He still has to testify if he's called, right?" she pointed out.

"Yes, but having a cooperative witness is a very different situation than one that doesn't want to tell you anything, especially if what they have to tell you is self-incriminating. He can plead the fifth to keep from doing just that. It doesn't mean we won't get the two of them, or however many other people were involved, it just means we'll have our work cut out for us," he said.

She put her hand on his shoulder and ran it down his arm. "You will get them both. You'll get the truth."

He took hold of her hand and brought it up to his lips. "Thank you."

"For what?" she asked, searching his eyes.

"Believing in me. Putting up with me, in the beginning. Sticking it out. All of it," he summarized.

She smiled. "You do the same for me."

He nodded. "I do."

"Good, because Emily's already planning our wedding reception."

He smiled, obviously holding back some sort of remark. "She won't have time to go all out. We'll be on a plane soon."

Rory shook her head. "I think you underestimate what that woman can do on in a crunch. I've seen her commandeer DAR parties with less than a week to go that would have been fit for the Queen of England's presence. What makes you think her granddaughter marrying the next Attorney General of Connecticut would get a half-assed attempt?"

"It's okay with you?" he asked, his tone no longer jovial.

She searched his eyes and put her hand to his chest. "Yes. It's almost always harmless to let Grandma be happy. Do not ever get into that debate with my mother, however," she backed up her assurance with a heavy disclaimer.

He smiled once again. "Your family's craziness is so much more fun than mine. Even when you Gilmore women get arrested, you get a souvenir mug shot and a great story out of it. My family just got shame and a few vehicles repossessed when my dad went to jail."

She just shook her head at him and turned back toward the party. "I am not showing you my mug shot," she said definitively.

He let out a bemused chuckle. "It's cute that you think I haven't already seen it. And made copies."

She turned on a dime, a mix of horror and annoyance on her face. "You didn't."

He nodded and let her finish coming back to him. "You knew I vetted you. Did you really think I wasn't thorough?"

She let out a noise of disgruntled helplessness. "Yeah, but now that we're married and the race is over, you're going to destroy all those copies, right?"

"Truly, you are adorable," he said, leaning down to kiss her nose.

"Tristan. I'm your wife. For now, anyway," she said in the most threatening tone she could muster.

"I could be persuaded to get rid of most of them."

"Most?" she questioned.

"You have to let me keep one. You're all young and windblown and guilty. It's kind of hot," he admitted.

She eyed him to gauge his sincerity. "You have problems."

He smiled again. "I know."

"I mean it, there's something wrong with you," she reiterated.

"Nothing you can't live with," he said easily again.

She seemed to think for a moment. "Do you have Grandma's mug shot?"

His smiled widened. "Of course. Why?"

Rory shrugged halfheartedly. "It might make a funny Christmas card, for Mom. All she has is old cell phone pictures, and she tried to blow them up, but they're all grainy. I bet your copies are better quality."

He listened to her reasoning. "And you say I have problems."

She rolled her eyes and shut him up at that point, simply by covering his mouth with hers. She knew he was always going to drive her crazy in certain respects, and that he would always have the ability to challenge her. She took stock in the fact that she was his equal match in both respects, and when they got too much for the other, they had an even greater sexual chemistry to fall back on. With all the baggage they'd brought to the relationship, she was finding it was a lot easier to bear, having someone to help manage the weight of it all.


End file.
